HEMLOCK 

MOVN1AIN 

I 

HVGH  LVNDSFORD 


THE  LAW  OF 
HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 


'I  am  sorry,"  declared  Spurrier,  humbly.     "I  didn't  know  they  were 
pets.     They  behaved  very  much  like  wild  birds." 


BY 

HUGH   LUNDSFORD 


Frontispiece  by 
DOUGLAS    DUER 


NEW  YORK 
W.  J.  WATT  &   COMPANY 


PUBLISHERS 


COPYRIGHT,  19*0,  BY 
W.  J.  WATT  &  COMPANY 


PRESS  or 

BRAUNWORTH    A   CO. 

BOOK   MANUFAOTUHIRS 

BROOKLYN,  N.  V. 


THE  LAW  OF 
HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 


2136798 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  officer  whose  collar  ornaments  were  the 
winged  staff  and  serpents  of  the  medical 
branch,  held  what  was  left  of  the  deck  in  his 
right  hand  and  moistened  the  tip  of  his  thumb  against 
the  tip  of  his  tongue. 

"Reinforcements,  major?"  he  inquired  with  a 
glance  to  the  man  at  his  left,  and  the  poker  face  of 
the  gentleman  so  addressed  remained  impervious  to 
expression  as  the  answer  was  given  back: 

"No,  I'll  stand  by  what  I've  got  here." 

If  the  utterance  hung  on  a  quarter  second  of  in- 
decision it  was  a  circumstance  that  went  unnoted,  save 
possibly  by  a  young  man  with  the  single  bars  of  a 
lieutenant  on  his  shoulder  straps — and  Spurrier  gave 
no  flicker  of  recognition  of  what  had  escaped  the 
others. 

Between  the  whitewashed  walls  of  the  room  where 
the  little  group  of  officers  sat  at  cards  the  Philippine 
night  breeze  stirred  faintly  with  a  fevered  breath  that 
scarcely  disturbed  the  jalousies. 

The  pile  of  poker  chips  had  grown  to  a  bulkiness 
and  value  out  of  just  proportion  to  the  means  of  army 
officers  below  field  rank — and  except  for  the  battalion 


2       THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

commander  and  the  surgeon  none  there  held  higher? 
grade  than  a  captaincy.  This  jungle-hot  weather 
made  men  irresponsible. 

One  or  two  of  the  faces  were  excitedly  flushed;  sev- 
eral others  were  morosely  dark.  The  lights  guttered 
with  a  jaundiced  yellow  and  sweat  beaded  the  temples 
of  the  players.  Sweat,  too,  made  slippery  the  enameled 
surfaces  of  the  pasteboards.  Sweat  seemed  to  ooze 
and  simmer  in  their  brains  like  the  oil  from  overheated 
asphalt. 

These  men  had  been  forced  into  a  companionship 
of  monotony  in  a  climate  of  unhealth  until  their 
studied  politeness,  even  their  forced  jocularity  was 
rather  the  effort  of  toleration  than  the  easy  play  of 
comradeship.  Their  arduously  wooed  excitement  of 
draw-poker,  which  had  run  improvidently  out  of 
bounds,  was  not  a  pleasure  so  much  as  an  expedient 
against  the  boredom  that  had  rubbed  their  tempers 
threadbare  and  put  an  edgy  sharpness  on  their  nerves. 

Captain  Comyn,  upon  whose  call  for  cards  the 
dealer  now  waited,  was  thinking  of  Private  Grant  out 
there  under  guard  in  the  improvised  hospital.  The 
islands  had  "gotten  to"  Private  Grant  and  "locoed" 
him,  and  he  had  breathed  sulphurous  maledictions 
against  Captain  Comyn's  life — but  it  was  not  those 
threats  that  now  disturbed  the  company  commander. 

Of  late  Captain  Comyn  had  been  lying  awake  at 
night  and  wondering  if  he,  too,  were  not  going  the 
same  way  as  the  unfortunate  file.  Horribly  quiet  fears 
had  been  stealing  poisonously  into  his  mind — a  mind 
not  given  to  timidities — and  the  word  "melancholia" 
had  assumed  for  him  a  morbid  and  irresistible  com- 
pulsion. No  one  save  the  captain's  self  knew  of  these 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN       3 

secret  hauntings,  born  of  climate  and  smoldering  fever, 
and  he  would  not  have  revealed  them  on  the  torture 
rack.  For  them  he  entertained  the  same  shame  as  that 
of  a  boy  grown  too  large  for  such  weakness,  who 
shudders  with  an  unconfessed  fear  of  the  dark.  But 
he  could  no  more  shake  them  loose  and  be  free  of  them 
than  could  the  Ancient  Mariner  rid  himself  of  the  bird 
of  ill-omen  tied  about  his  neck.  Now  he  pulled  him- 
self together  and  tossed  away  a  single  card. 

"I'll  take  one  in  the  place  of  that,"  he  commented 
with  studied  carelessness,  and  Lieutenant  John 
Spurrier,  with  that  infectious  smile  which  came  readily 
to  his  lips,  pointed  a  contrast  with  the  captain's  ab- 
straction by  the  snappy  quickness  of  his  announce- 
ment: 

"If  I'm  going  to  trail  along,  I'll  need  three.  Yes, 
three,  please,  major." 

"When  Spurrier  sits  in  the  game,"  commented  a 
player  who,  with  a  dolorous  glance  at  the  booty  before 
him,  threw  down  his  hands,  "we  at  least  get  action. 
Myself,  I'm  out  of  it." 

The  battalion  commander  studied  the  ceiling  with  a 
troubled  furrow  between  his  brows  which  was  not 
brought  there  by  the  hazards  of  luck.  He  was  reflect- 
ing that  whenever  a  game  was  organized  it  was  Spur- 
rier who  quickened  its  tempo  from  innocuous  amuse- 
ment to  reckless  extravagance.  Spurrier,  fitted  for 
his  life  with  so  many  soldierly  qualities,  was  still, 
above  all  else,  a  plunger.  That  spirit  seemed  a  passion 
that  filled  and  overflowed  him.  Temperate  in  other 
habits,  he  played  like  a  nabob.  The  major  remem- 
bered hearing  that  even  at  West  Point  Jack  Spurrier 
had  narrowly  escaped  dismissal  for  gambling  in 


4       THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

quarters,  though  his  class  standing  had  been  distin- 
guished and  his  gridiron  record  had  become  a  tradition. 

This  sort  of  game  with  "the  roof  off  and  deuces 
wild,"  was  not  good  for  the  morale  of  his  junior 
officers,  mused  the  major.  It  was  like  spiking  whisky 
with  absinthe.  Yes,  to-morrow  he  would  have  Spur- 
rier at  his  quarters  and  talk  to  him  like  a  Dutch  uncle. 

There  were  three  left  battling  for  the  often 
sweetened  pot  now,  with  three  more  who  had  dropoed 
out,  looking  on,  and  a  tensity  enveloped  the  long- 
drawn  climax  of  the  evening's  session. 

Captain  Comyn's  cheek  bones  had  reddened  and  his 
irascible  frown  lines  deepened.  For  the  moment  his 
fears  of  melancholia  had  been  swallowed  up  in  a  fitful 
fury  against  Spurrier  and  his  smiling  face. 

At  last  came  the  decisive  moment  of  the  final  call 
and  the  show-down,  and  through  the  dead  silence  of 
the  moment  sounded  the  distant  sing-song  of  a  sentry : 

"Corporal  of  the  guard,  number  one,  relief !" 

Over  the  window  sill  a  tiny  green  lizard  slithered 
quietly  and  hesitated,  pressing  itself  flat  against  the 
whitewash. 

Then  the  major's  cards  came  down  face  upward — 
and  showed  a  queen-high  straight. 

"Not  quite  good  enough,  major/'  announced  Comyn 
brusquely  as  his  breath  broke  from  him  with  a  sort  of 
gasp  and  he  spread  out  a  heart  flush. 

But  Spurrier,  who  had  drawn  three  cards,  echoed 
the  captain's  words:  "Not  quite  good  enough."  He 
laid  down  two  aces  and  two  deuces,  which  under  the 
cutthroat  rule  of  "deuces  wild"  he  was  privileged  to 
call  four  aces. 

Comyn  came  to  his  feet  and  pushed  back  his  chair,. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN       5 

but  he  stood  unsteadily.  The  fever  in  his  bones  was 
playing  queer  pranks  with  his  brain.  He,  whose 
courtesy  had  always  been  marked  in  its  punctilio, 
blazed  volcano- fashion  into  the  eruption  that  had  been 
gathering  through  these  abnormal  days  and  nights. 

Yet  even  now  the  long  habit  of  decorum  held  waver- 
ingly  for  a  little  before  its  breaking,  and  he  began 
with  a  queer  strain  in  his  voice: 

"You'll  have  to  take  my  I  O  U.  I've  lost  more  than 
I  can  pay  on  the  peg." 

'That's  all  right,  Comyn,"  began  the  victor.  "Pay 
when "  but  before  he  could  finish  the  other  inter- 
rupted with  a  frenzy  of  anger: 

"No,  by  God,  it's  not  all  right !  It's  all  wrong,  and 
this  is  the  last  game  I  sit  in  where  they  deal  a  hand 
to  you." 

Spurrier's  smiling  lips  tightened  instantly  out  of 
their  infectious  amiability  into  a  forbidding  straight- 
ness.  He  pushed  aside  the  chips  he  had  been  stacking 
and  rose  stiffly. 

"That's  a  statement,  Captain  Comyn,"  he  said  with 
a  warning  note  in  his  level  voice,  "which  requires  some 
explaining." 

The  abrupt  bursting  of  the  tempest  had  left  the 
others  in  a  tableau  of  amazement,  but  now  the  authori- 
tative voice  of  Major  Withers  broke  in  upon  the 
dialogue. 

"Gentlemen,  this  is  an  army  post,  and  I  am  in 
command  here.  I  will  tolerate  no  quarrels." 

Without  shifting  the  gaze  of  eyes  that  held  those 
of  the  captain,  Spurrier  answered  insistently: 

"I  have  every  respect,  major,  for  the  requirements 


6        THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

of  discipline — but  Captain  Comyn  must  finish  telling 
why  he  will  no  longer  play  cards  with  me." 

"And  I'll  tell  you  pronto,"  came  the  truculent  re- 
sponse. "I  won't  play  with  you  because  you  are  too 
damned  lucky." 

"Oh!"  Spurrier's  tensity  of  expression  relaxed  into 
something  like  amusement  for  the  anticlimax.  "That 
accusation  can  be  stomached,  I  suppose." 

"Too  damned  lucky,"  went  on  the  other  with  a 
gathering  momentum  of  rancor,  "and  too  continuously 
lucky  for  a  game  that's  not  professional.  When  a 
man  is  so  proficient — or  lucky  if  you  prefer — that  the 
card  table  pays  him  more  than  the  government  thinks 
he's  worth,  it's  time " 

Spurrier  stepped  forward. 

"It's  time  for  you  to  stop,"  he  cautioned  sharply. 
"I  give  you  the  fairest  warning !" 

But  Comyn,  riding  the  flood  tide  of  his  passion — 
a  passion  of  distempered  nerves — was  beyond  the 
reach  of  warnings  and  his  words  came  in  a  bitter 
outpouring: 

"I  dare  say  it  was  only  luck  that  let  you  bankrupt 
young  Tillsdale,  but  it  was  as  fatal  to  him  as  if  it 
bore  an  uglier  name." 

The  sound  in  Spurrier's  throat  was  incoherent  and 
his  bodily  impulse  swift  beyond  interference.  His  flat 
palm  smote  Captain  Comyn's  cheek,  to  come  away 
leaving  a  red  welt  behind  it,  and  as  the  others  swept 
forward  to  intervene  the  two  men  grappled. 

They  were  torn  apart,  still  struggling,  as  Major 
Withers,  unaccustomed  to  the  brooking  of  such  mu- 
tinies, interposed  between  them  the  bulk  of  his  body 
and  the  moral  force  of  his  indignantly  blazing  eyes. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN   7 

"I  will  have  no  more  of  this,"  he  thundered.  "I 
am  not  a  prize-fight  referee,  that  I  must  break  my 
officers  out  of  clinches !  Go  to  your  quarters,  Comyn ! 
You,  too,  Spurrier.  You  are  under  arrest.  I  shall 
prefer  charges  against  you  both.  I  mean  to  make  an 
example  of  this  matter." 

But  with  a  strange  abruptness  the  fury  died  out  of 
Comyn's  face.  It  left  his  passion-distorted  features 
so  instantly  that  the  effect  of  transformation  was  un- 
canny. In  a  breathing  space  he  seemed  older  and  his 
eyes  held  the  dark  dejection  of  utter  misery.  His 
anger  had  flared  and  died  before  that  grimmer  emotion 
which  secretly  haunted  him — the  fear  that  he  was 
going  the  way  of  climate-crazed  Private  Grant. 

When  they  released  him  he  turned  dispiritedly  and 
left  the  room  in  docile  silence.  He  was  not  thinking 
of  the  charges  to  be  preferred.  They  belonged  to  to- 
morrow. To-night  was  nearer,  and  to-night  he  must 
face  those  hours  of  sleeplessness  that  he  dreaded  more 
than  all  the  penalties  enunciated  by  the  Articles  of 
War. 

Spurrier,  too,  bowed  stifHy  and  left  the  room. 

Though  it  was  late  when  Captain  Comyn  entered 
his  own  quarters,  he  did  not  at  once  throw  himself 
on  the  army  cot  that  stood  against  the  whitewashed 
wall. 

For  him  the  cot  held  no  invitation — only  the  threat 
of  insomnia  and  tossing.  His  taut  nerves  had  lost 
the  gracious  art  of  relaxation,  and  before  his  thoughts 
paraded  hideously  grotesque  memories  of  the  few 
faces  he  had  ever  seen  marred  by  the  dethronement  of 
reason. 

Already  he   had    forgotten   the   violent   and   dis- 


8   THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

creditable  scene  with  Spurrier,  and  presently  he 
dropped  himself  inertly  into  the  camp  chair  beside  the 
table  at  the  room's  center  and  opened  its  drawer. 

Slowly  his  hand  came  out  clutching  a  service  re- 
volver, and  his  eyes  smoldered  unnaturally  as  they 
dwelt  on  it.  But  after  a  little  he  resolutely  shook  his 
head  and  thrust  the  thing  aside. 

He  sat  in  a  cold  sweat,  surrounded  by  the  silence  of 
the  Eastern  night,  a  comprehensive  silence  which 
weighed  upon  him  and  oppressed  him. 

In  the  thatching  of  the  single-storied  adobe  build- 
ing he  heard  the  rustling  of  a  house  snake,  and  from 
without,  where  moonlight  seemed  to  gush  and  spill 
against  the  cobalt  shadows,  shrilled  the  small  voice 
from  a  lizard's  inflated,  crimson  throat. 

It  was  all  crazing  him,  and  his  nails  bit  into  his 
palms  as  he  sat  there,  silent  and  heavy-breathed. 
Then  he  heard  footsteps  nearer  and  louder  than  those 
of  the  pacing  sentries,  followed  by  a  low  rapping  of 
knuckles  on  his  own  door.  Perhaps  it  was  Doctor 
James.  He  had  the  kindly  habit  of  besetting  men  who 
looked  fagged  with  the  offer  of  some  innocuous 
bromide.  As  if  bromides  could  soothe  a  brain  in 
which  something  had  gone  malo! 

"Come  in,"  he  growled,  and  into  the  room  stepped 
not  Major  James,  but  Lieutenant  Spurrier. 

Slowly  and  with  an  infinite  weight  of  weariness, 
Comyn  rose  to  his  feet.  He  might  be  afraid  of  lunacy, 
but  not  of  lieutenants,  and  his  lips  smiled  sneeringly. 

"If  you've  come  to  ask  a  retraction,"  he  declared 
ungraciously,  "I've  none  to  offer.  I  meant  all  I  said." 

The.  visitor  stood  inside  the  door  calmly  eyeing  the 
man  who  was  his  own  company  commander. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN        9 

"I  didn't  come  to  insist  on  apologies,"  he  replied 
after  a  moment's  silence  with  an  off-hand  easiness  of 
tone.  "That  can  wait  till  you've  gotten  over  your 
tantrum.  It  was  another  thing  that  brought  me." 

"I  want  to  be  left  alone." 

"Aside  from  the  uncomplimentary  features  of  your 
tirade,"  went  on  Spurrier  placidly  and  he  strolled  around 
the  table  and  seated  himself  on  the  window  sill,  "there 
was  a  germ  of  truth  in  what  you  said.  We've  been 
playing  too  steep  a  game."  He  paused  and  the  other 
man  who  remained  standing  by  his  table,  as  though  he 
did  not  wish  to  encourage  his  visitor  by  seating  him- 
self, responded  only  with  a  short,  ironic  laugh. 

"See  here,  Comyn,"  Spurrier's  voice  labored  now 
with  evident  embarrassment.  "What  I'm  getting  at 
is  this:  I  don't  want  your  I  O  U  for  that  game.  I 
simply  want  you  to  forget  it." 

But  the  captain  took  an  angry  step  forward. 

"Do  you  think  I'm  a  charity  patient?"  he  demanded, 
as  his  temper  again  mounted  to  storm  pressure. 
"Why,  damn  your  impertinence,  I  don't  want  to  talk 
to  you.  I  don't  want  you  in  my  quarters!" 

Spurrier  slipped  from  his  seat  and  an  angry  flush 
spread  to  his  cheek  bones. 

"You're  the  hell  of  a — gentleman!"  he  exclaimed. 

The  two  stood  for  a  few  moments  without  words, 
facing  each  other,  while  the  lieutenant  could  hear  the 
captain's  breath  rising  and  falling  in  a  panting 
thickness. 

Surgeon  James  returning  from  a  visit  to  a  colic 
sufferer  was  trudging  sleepily  along  the  empty  calle 
when  he  noted  the  light  still  burning  in  the  captain's 
window,  and  with  an  exclamation  of  remembrance  for 


the  officer's  dark-ringed  and  sleepless  eyes,  he  wheeled 
toward  the  door.  Just  as  he  neared  it,  a  staccato  and 
heated  interchange  of  voices  was  borne  out  to  him, 
and  he  hurried  his  step,  but  at  the  same  instant  a  pistol 
shot  bellowed  blatantly  in  the  quiet  air  and  into  his 
nostrils  stole  the  acrid  savor  of  burned  powder. 

The  door,  thrown  open,  gave  him  the  startling  pic- 
ture of  Comyn  sagged  across  his  own  table  and  lying 
grotesque  in  the  yellow  light;  and  of  Spurrier  stand- 
ing, wide-eyed  by  the  window,  with  the  green  and 
cobalt  background  of  the  tropic  night  beyond  his 
shoulders.  While  he  gazed  the  lieutenant  wheeled 
and  thrust  his  head  through  the  raised  sash,  under 
the  jalousy. 

"Halt!"  cried  James  excitedly,  leaping  forward  to 
possess  himself  of  the  pistol  which  Comyn  had  taken 
from  his  drawer  and  thrust  aside.  "Halt,  Spurrier, 
or  I'll  have  to  fire !" 

The  other  turned  back  and  faced  his  captor  with 
an  expression  which  it  was  hard  to  read.  Then  he 
shook  his  shoulders  as  though  to  disentangle  himself 
from  an  evil  dream  and  in  a  cool  voice  demanded: 

"Do  you  mean  to  intimate,  James,  that  you  suspect 
me  of  killing  Comyn?" 

"Do  you  mean  to  deny  it?"  countered  the  other 
incredulously. 

"Great  God !  I  oughtn't  to  have  to.  That  shot  was 
fired  through  the  window.  The  bullet  whined  past 
my  ear  while  my  back  was  turned.  That  was  why  I 
looked  out  just  now.  Moreover,  I  am,  as  you  see, 
unarmed." 

"God  grant  that  you  can  prove  these  things,  Spur- 
rier, but  they  will  need  proof."  The  doctor  turned  to 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      11 

bend  over  the  prostrate  figure,  and  as  he  did  so  voices 
rose  from  the  calle  where  already  had  sounded  the 
alarm  and  response  of  running  feet.  "Or,  perhaps," 
added  the  doctor  with  stubborn  suggestiveness,  "you 
acted  in  sell-defense." 

Presently  the  door  opened  and  the  corporal  of  the 
guard  entered  and  saluted.  His  eyes  traveled  rapidly 
about  the  room  and  he  addressed  Spurrier,  since  James 
was  not  a  line  officer. 

"I  picked  this  revolver  up,  sir,  just  outside  the 
window,"  he  said,  holding  out  a  service  pistol.  "It 
was  lying  in  the  moonlight  and  one  chamber  is  empty." 

Spurrier  took  the  weapon,  but  when  the  man  had 
gone  James  suggested  in  an  even  voice:  "Don't  you 
think  you  had  better  hand  that  gun  to  me?" 

"To  you?    Why?" 

"Because  this  looks  like  a  case  for  G.  C.  M.  It 
will  have  a  better  aspect  if  I  can  testify  that,  after  the 
gun  was  brought  in,  it  wasn't  handled  by  you  except 
while  I  saw  you  ?" 

"It  seems  to  me" — a  belligerent  flash  darted  in  the 
lieutenant's  eyes — "that  you  are  singularly  set  on  hang- 
ing this  affair  around  my  neck." 

"You  were  with  him  and  no  one  else  was.  If  I 
were  you,  I'd  go  direct  to  the  major  and  make  a  state- 
ment of  facts.  He'll  be  getting  reports  from  other 
sources  by  now." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right.    Is  he  dead?" 

The  surgeon  nodded,  and  Spurrier  turned  and  closed 
the  door  softly  behind  him. 


THE  situation  of  John  Spurrier,  who  was  Jack 
Spurrier  to  every  man  in  that  command,  stand- 
ing under  the  monstrous  presumption  of  having 
murdered  a  brother  officer,  called  for  a  reaccommoda- 
tion  of  the  battalion's  whole  habit  of  thought.  It  de- 
manded a  new  and  unwelcome  word  in  their  vocabu- 
lary of  ideas,  and  against  it  argued,  with  the  hot  ad- 
vocacy of  tested  acquaintance,  every  characteristic  of 
the  man  himself,  and  every  law  of  probability.  For 
its  acceptance  spoke  only  one  forceful  plea — evidence 
which  unpleasantly  skirted  the  actuality  of  demonstra- 
tion. Short  of  seeing  Spurrier  shoot  his  captain  down 
and  toss  his  pistol  through  the  open  window,  Major 
James  could  hardly  have  witnessed  a  more  damaging 
picture  than  the  hurriedly  opened  door  had  framed  to 
his  vision. 

Within  the  close-drawn  cordon  of  a  post,  held  to 
military  accountability,  facts  were  as  traceable  as  entries 
on  a  card  index — and  these  facts  began  building  to 
the  lieutenant's  undoing.  They  seemed  to  bring  out 
like  acid  on  sympathetic  ink  the  miracle  of  a  Mr. 
Hyde  where  his  comrades  had  known  only  a  Doctor 
Jekyll. 

The  one  man  out  of  the  two  skeleton  companies  of 
infantry  stationed  in  the  interior  town  who  remained 
seemingly  impervious  to  the  strangulating  force  of  the 
tightening  net  was  Spurrier  himself. 

12 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      13 

In  another  man  that  insulated  and  steady-eyed  con- 
fidence might  have  served  as  a  manifest  of  innocence 
and  a  proclamation  of  clean  conscience.  But  Spur- 
rier wore  a  nick-name,  until  now  lightly  considered,  to 
which  new  conditions  had  added  importance. 

They  had  called  him  "The  Plunger,"  and  now  they 
could  not  forget  the  nickeled  and  chrome-hardened 
gambling  nerve  which  had  won  for  him  the  sobriquet. 
There  had  been  the  coup  at  Oakland,  for  example, 
when  a  stretch  finish  had  stood  to  ruin  him  or  sud- 
denly enrich  him — an  incident  that  had  gone  down  in 
racing  history  and  made  cafe  talk. 

Through  a  smother  of  concealing  dust  and  a  thunder 
of  hoofs,  the  field  had  struggled  into  the  stretch  that 
afternoon,  tight-bunched,  with  its  snapping  silks  too 
closely  tangled  for  easy  distinguishing — but  the  cerise 
cap  that  proclaimed  Spurrier's  choice  was  nowhere  in 
sight.  The  bookmakers  pedestal! ed  on  their  high 
stools  with  field  glasses  glued  to  their  eyes  had  been 
more  excited  than  the  young  officer  on  the  club-house 
lawn,  who  put  away  his  binoculars  while  the  horses 
were  still  in  the  back  stretch  and  turned  to  chat  with 
a  girl. 

Three  lengths  from  the  finish  a  pair  of  distended 
nostrils  had  thrust  themselves  ahead  of  the  other 
muzzles  to  catch  the  judges'  eyes,  and  bending  over 
steaming  withers  had  nodded  a  cerise  cap. 

But  the  lieutenant  who  had  escaped  financial  dis- 
aster and  won  a  miniature  fortune  had  gone  on  talk- 
ing to  the  girl. 

Might  it  not  be  suspected  in  these  circumstances 
that  "Plunger"  Spurrier's  refusal  to  treat  his  accusa- 
tion seriously  was  only  an  attitude?  He  was  sitting 


14  i  THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

in  a  game  now  with  his  neck  at  stake  and  the  cards 
running  against  him.  Perhaps  he  was  only  bluffing 
as  he  had  never  bluffed  before.  Possibly  he  was  braz- 
ening it  out. 

It  was  not  until  the  battalion  had  hiked  back  through 
bosque  and  over  mountains  to  Manila  that  the  lieuten- 
ant faced  his  tribunal:  a  court  whose  simplified 
methods  cut  away  the  maze  of  technicalities  at  which 
a  man  may  grasp  before  a  civilian  jury  of  his  peers. 

If,  when  he  actually  sat  in  the  room  where  the  evi- 
dence was  heard,  his  assurance  that  he  was  to  emerge 
clean-shriven  began  to  reel  under  blows  more  power- 
ful than  he  had  expected,  at  least  his  face  continued  to 
testify  for  him  with  an  outward  serenity  of  confidence. 

Doctor  James  told  his  story  with  an  admirable  re- 
straint and  an  absolute  absence  of  coloring.  He  had 
meant  to  go  to  Comyn,  because  he  read  in  his  eyes  the 
signs  of  nerve  waste  and  insomnia;  the  same  things 
that  had  caused  too  many  suicides  among  the  men 
whose  nervous  constitutions  failed  to  adapt  them- 
selves to  the  climate. 

Before  he  had  carried  his  purpose  to  fulfillment — 
perhaps  a  half  hour  before — he  had  gone  to  look  in 
on  the  case  of  Private  Grant,  who  was  suffering  from 
just  such  a  malady,  though  in  a  more  serious  degree. 
That  private,  a  mountaineer  from  the  Cumberland 
hills  of  Kentucky,  had  been  to  all  appearances  merely 
a  lunatic,  although  it  was  a  case  which  would  yield  to 
treatment  or  perhaps  come  to  recovery  even  if  left 
to  itself.  On  this  night  he  had  gone  to  see  if  Grant 
needed  an  opiate,  but  had  found  the  patient  apparently 
sleeping  without  restlessness,  and  had  not  roused  him. 
At  the  door  of  the  place  where  Grant  was  under 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      15 

guard,  he  had  paused  for  a  word  with  Private  Sever- 
ance who  stood  there  on  sentry  duty. 

It  had  been  a  sticky  night  following  a  hot  day,  and 
in  the  calle  upon  which  lay  the  command  in  billets 
of  nipa-thatched  houses,  no  one  but  himself  and  the 
sentries  were  astir  during  the  twenty  minutes  he  had 
spent  strolling  in  the  moonlight.  On  rounding  a  cor- 
ner he  had  seen  a  light  in  Comyn's  window,  and  he 
had  gone  around  the  angle  of  the  adobe  house,  since 
the  door  was  on  the  farther  side,  to  offer  the  captain 
a  sleeping  potion,  too.  That  was  how  he  chanced  on 
the  scene  of  the  tragedy,  just  a  moment  too  late  for 
service. 

"You  say,"  began  Spurrier's  counsel,  on  cross- 
examination,  "that  you  visited  Private  Grant  about 
half  an  hour  before  Captain  Comyn  was  killed  and 
found  him  apparently  resting  naturally,  although  on 
previous  nights  you  had  thought  morphia  necessary 
to  quiet  his  delirium?" 

The  major  nodded,  then  qualified  slowly: 

"Grant  had  not,  of  course,  been  continuously  out 
of  his  head  nor  had  he  always  slept  brokenly.  There 
had  been  lucid  periods  alternating  with  exhausting 
storm." 

"You  are  not  prepared  to  swear,  though,  that  this 
seeming  sleep  might  not  have  been  feigned?" 

"I  am  prepared  to  testify  that  it  is  most  unlikely." 

"Yet  that  same  night  he  did  make  his  escape  and 
deserted.  That  is  true,  is  it  not?" 

The  major  bowed.  "He  had  sought  to  escape 
before.  That  was  symptomatic  of  his  condition." 

"And  since  then  he  has  not  been  recaptured,  though 


16      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

he  was  in  your  opinion  too  ill  and  deranged  to  have 
deceived  you  by  feigning  sleep?" 

"Quite  true." 

"Have  you  ever  heard  Grant  threaten  Captain 
Comyn's  life?" 

"Never." 

"Whether  he  had  made  such  threats  to  your  knowl- 
edge or  not,  he  did  come  from  that  hill  county  of  the 
Kentucky  mountains  commonly  called  Bloody  Brack- 
ton,  did  he  not?" 

"I  believe  so.  His  enlistment  record  will  answer 
that." 

"You  do  know,  though,  that  the  man  on  guard  duty 
— the  man  with  whom  you  spoke  outside — was  Private 
Severance,  also  from  the  so-called  Kentucky  feud  belt 
and  a  friend  of  the  sick  man?" 

"I  can  testify  of  my  own  knowledge  only  that  he 
was  Private  Severance  and  that  he  and  Grant  were  of 
the  same  platoon — Lieutenant  Spurrier's." 

The  defense  advocate  paused  and  carefully  framed 
a  hypothetical  question  to  be  answered  by  the  wit- 
ness as  a  medical  expert. 

"I  will  now  ask  you  to  speak  from  your  knowledge 
of  blood  tendencies  as  affected  or  distorted  by  mental 
abnormalities.  Suppose  a  man  to  have  been  born  and 
raised  under  a  code  which  still  adheres  to  feudal  vio- 
lence and  the  private  avenging  of  personal  grievances 
both  real  and  fancied.  Suppose  such  a  man  to  have 
conceived  a  bitter  hatred  against  his  commanding 
officer  and  to  have  brooded  over  that  hatred  until  it 
had  become  a  fixed  idea — a  monomania — a  determina- 
tion to  kill ;  suppose  such  a  man  to  have  known  only 
the  fierce  influences  of  his  retarded  hills  until  he  came 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      17 

into  the  army  and  to  have  encountered  there  a  dis- 
cipline which  seemed  to  him  a  tyranny.  I  will  ask 
you  whether  such  a  man  might  not  be  apt  to  react 
to  a  homicidal  mania  under  nervous  derangement,  and 
whether  such  a  homicidal  mania  might  not  develop 
its  own  craftiness  of  method?" 

"Such,"  testified  the  medical  officer,  "is  a  conceiv- 
able but  a  highly  imaginative  possibility." 

Then  Private  Severance  was  called  and  came  into 
the  room,  where  he  stood  smartly  at  attention  until  in- 
structed to  take  the  witness  chair.  This  dark-haired 
private  from  the  Cumberlands  looked  the  soldier  from 
crown  to  sole  leather,  yet  his  features  seemed  to  hold 
under  their  present  repose  an  ancient  stamp  of  sullen- 
ness.  It  was  an  intangible  quality  rather  than  an  ex- 
pression, as  though  it  bore  less  relation  to  his  present 
than  to  some  unconquerable  survival  from  generations 
that  had  passed  on;  generations  that  had  been  always 
peering  into  shadows  and  searching  them  for  lurking 
perils. 

In  his  speech  lingered  quaintly  remnants  of  dialect 
from  the  laureled  hills  that  army  life  had  failed  to 
eradicate,  and  in  his  manner  one  could  note  a  wariness 
of  extreme  caution.  That  was  easy  to  understand, 
because  Private  Severance,  too,  stood  under  the  charge 
of  having  permitted  a  prisoner  to  escape,  and  his  evi- 
dence would  confront  him  later  when  he  in  turn  occu- 
pied the  dock. 

"I  didn't  have  no  speech  with  Bud  Grant  that 
night,"  he  testified,  "but  I'd  looked  in  some  several 
times  through  the  window.  It  was  a  barred  window, 
an'  every  time  I  peeked  through  it  I  could  see  Bud 


18      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

layin'  there  asleep.  The  moon  fell  acrost  his  cot  so  I 
could  see  him  plain." 

"When  did  you  see  him  last?" 

"After  Major  James  had  been  in  and  come  out — 
a  full  fifteen  minutes  later.  I'm  able  to  swear  to 
that,  because  I  noticed  the  moon  just  as  the  major 
went  out,  and,  when  I  looked  in  through  the  window 
the  last  time,  the  moon  was  a  full  quarter  hour  lower 
down  to'rds  settin'." 

After  a  moment's  pause  the  witness  volunteered  in 
amplification:  "Where  I  come  from  we  don't  have 
many  clocks  or  watches.  We  goes  by  the  sun  and 
moon." 

"Then  you  can  swear  that  if  Private  Grant  fired 
the  shot  that  killed  Captain  Comyn,  he  must  have 
escaped  and  eluded  your  sight ;  armed  himself,  crossed 
the  plaza ;  turned  the  corner ;  accomplished  the  act  and 
gotten  clean  away,  all  within  the  brief  period  of  five 
minutes  ?" 

"I  can  swear  to  more  than  that.  He  didn't  get  past 
me  till  after  the  pistol  went  off.  There  wasn't  no 
way  out  but  by  the  one  door,  and  I  was  right  at  that 
door  all  the  time  until  I  left  it." 

"When  did  you  leave?" 

The  witness  gave  response  without  hesitation,  yet 
with  the  same  serious  weighing  of  his  words. 

"I  was  standing  there,  sorter  peerin'  up  at  the  stars 
an'  beginning  to  feel  right  smart  tired  when  I  heard 
the  shot.  I  heard  the  shout  of  the  corporal  of  the 
guard,  too,  an'  then  it  was  that  I  made  my  mistake." 
He  paused  and  went  on  evenly.  "I  hadn't  ought  to 
have  stirred  away  from  my  post,  but  it  seemed  like  a 
sort  of  a  general  alarm,  an'  I  went  runnin'  to'rds  it. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      19 

That  was  the  first  chanst  Bud  had  to  get  away.  When 
I  got  back  he  was  gone." 

"You  are  sure  he  was  still  there  when  the  shot 
sounded  ?" 

"As  God  looks  down,  I  can  swear  he  was !" 

Then  the  defense  took  the  witness. 

"When  does  your  enlistment  expire?" 

"Two  months,  come  Sunday." 

"You  know  to  the  day,  don't  you?  You  are  keenly 
anxious  for  that  day  to  come,  aren't  you?" 

"Why  wouldn't  I  be  ?    I've  got  folks  at  home." 

"Haven't  you  and  Grant  both  been  malcontents 
throughout  your  entire  period  of  service  ?" 

"It's  news  to  me,  if  it's  true." 

"Haven't  you  often  heard  Private  Grant  swear 
vengeance  against  Captain  Comyn?" 

"Not  no  more  than  to  belly-ache  some  little." 

"Is  it  not  a  fact  that  since  you  and  Grant  ran  amuck 
on  the  transport  coming  over,  and  Comyn  put  you 
both  in  irons,  the  two  of  you  had  sworn  vengeance 
against  him;  that  you  had  both  taken  the  blood  oath 
to  get  him?" 

Severance  looked  blankly  at  his  questioner  and 
blankly  shook  his  head. 

"That's  all  new  tidings  ter  me,"  he  asserted  with 
entire  calmness. 

"Don't  you  know  that  you  deliberately  let  Grant  out 
immediately  after  the  visit  of  Major  James  and  slipped 
him  the  pistol  with  which  he  fired  the  shot?  Didn't 
you  do  that,  knowing  that  when  the  report  sounded 
you  could  make  it  your  excuse  for  leaving  your  post, 
and  then  perjure  yourself  as  to  the  time?" 

"I  know  full  well,"  asserted  the  witness  with  an  un- 


20      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

shaken  composure,  "that  nothing  like  that  didn't 
happen." 

Fact  built  on  fact  until  even  the  defendant's  counsel 
found  himself  arguing  against  a  growing  and  ugly 
conviction.  The  pistol  had  been  identified  as  Spur- 
rier's, and  his  explanation  that  he  had  left  it  hang- 
ing in  his  holster  at  his  quarters,  whence  some  un- 
known person  might  have  abstracted  it,  lacked  per- 
suasiveness. The  defense  built  a  structure  of  hypoth- 
esis based  upon  the  fact  that  the  open  door  of  Spur- 
rier's room  was  visible  from  the  house  where  Grant 
had  been  tossing  on  his  cot.  The  claim  was  urgently 
advanced  that  a  skulking  lunatic  might  easily  have 
seen  the  glint  of  blued  steel,  and  have  been  spurred  in 
his  madness  by  the  temptation  of  such  an  implement 
ready  to  his  hand.  But  that,  too,  was  held  to  be  a 
fantastic  claim.  So  the  verdict  was  guilty  and  the  sen- 
tence life  imprisonment.  It  must  have  been  death, 
had  the  case,  for  all  its  warp  of  presumption  and  woof 
of  logic,  been  other  than  circumstantial. 

The  defendant  felt  that  this  mitigation  of  the  ex- 
treme penalty  was  a  misplaced  mercy.  The  disgrace 
could  be  no  blacker  and  death  would  at  least  have 
brought  to  its  period  the  hideousness  of  the  nightmare 
which  must  now  stretch  endlessly  into  the  future. 

It  was  to  a  prisoner,  sentenced  and  branded,  that 
Major  Withers  came  one  afternoon  when  the  court- 
martial  of  Lieutenant  Spurrier  had  run  its  course  as 
topic-in-chief  for  the  Officers'  Club  at  Manila.  Other 
matters  were  already  crowding  it  out  of  the  minds  it 
had  profoundly  shocked. 

"I  want  to  talk  to  you,  Jack,"  began  the  major 
bluntly.  "I  want  to  talk  to  you  with  a  candor  that 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      21 

grows  out  of  the  affection  we  all  felt  for-you — before 
this  damnable  thing  upset  our  little  world.  My  God, 
boy,  you  had  life  in  your  sling.  You  had  every  quality 
that  makes  the  soldier;  you  had  every  social  requisite 
except  wealth.  This  besetting  passion  for  gambling 
has  brought  the  whole  train  of  disaster — as  logically 
as  if  you  had  killed  him  at  the  card  table  itself." 

"You  are  overlooking  the  fact,  major,"  interrupted 
the  prisoner  dryly,  "that  I  didn't  kill  him.  Moreover, 
it's  too  late  now  for  the  warning  to  benefit  me.  I  dare 
say  in  Leavenworth  I  shall  have  no  trouble  curbing 
my  passion  for  gaming."  He  paused  and  added  with 
an  irony  of  despairing  bitterness:  "But  I  suppose  I 
should  thank  you  and  say,  like  the  negro  standing  on 
the  gallows,  'dis  hyar  is  surely  g'wine  to  be  a  great 
lesson  ter  me.' '  Suddenly  the  voice  broke  and  the 
young  man  wheeled  to  avert  his  face.  "My  God,"  he 
cried  out,  "why  didn't  you  let  them  hang  me  or  shoot 
me?  Any  man  can  stiffen  his  legs  and  his  spine  for 
five  minutes  of  dying — even  public  dying — but  back 
of  those  walls  with  a  convict's  number  instead  of  a 

name "  There  he  broke  off  and  the  battalion 

commander  laid  a  hand  on  his  heaving  shoulder. 

"I  didn't  come  to  rub  in  preachments  while  you  stood 
at  the  edge  of  the  scaffold  or  the  jail,  Jack.  My  warn- 
ing may  not  be  too  late,  after  all.  We've  passed  the 
matter  up  to  the  war  department  with  a  strong  recom- 
mendation for  clemency.  We  mean  to  pull  every 
wire  that  can  honorably  be  pulled.  We're  making  the 
most  of  your  good  record  heretofore  and  of  the  con- 
viction being  based  on  circumstantial  evidence." 

He  paused  a  moment  and  then  went  on  with  a 
trifle  of  embarrassment  in  his  voice: 


22      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"You  know  that  Senator  Beverly  is  at  the  governor 
general's  palace — and  that  his  daughter  is  with  him." 

Spurrier  wheeled  at  that  and  stood  facing  his  visitor 
with  eyes  that  had  kindled,  but  in  which  the  light  at 
once  faded  as  he  commented  shortly: 

"Neither  the  senator  nor  Augusta  has  made  any 
effort  to  see  me  since  I  was  brought  to  Manila." 

"Perhaps  the  senator  thought  that  was  best,  Jack," 
argued  Withers.  "For  the  daughter,  of  course,  I'm 
not  prepared  to  speak — but  I  know  that  Beverly  has 
been  keeping  the  cable  hot  in  your  behalf.  Your  name 
has  become  so  familiar  to  the  operators  between  here 
and  Washington  that  they  don't  spell  it  out  any  more : 
they  only  need  to  rap  out  Sp.  now — and  if  I  needed  a 
voice  to  speak  for  me  on  Pennsylvania  Avenue  or  on 
Capitol  Hill,  there's  no  man  I'd  pick  before  the 
senator." 

When  he  had  gone  Spurrier  sat  alone  and  to  his 
cars  came  the  distant  playing  of  a  band  in  the  plaEa. 
Somewhere  in  that  ancient  town  was  the  girl  who  had 
not  been  to  see  him,  nor  written  to  him,  even  though, 
just  before  his  battalion  had  gone  into  the  bosques 
across  the  mountains,  she  had  let  him  slip  a  ring  on 
her  finger,  and  had  answered  "yes"  to  his  question — 
the  most  personal  question  in  the  world. 


CHAPTER  III 

THERE  was  a  more  assured  light  in  Major 
Withers'  eyes  when  he  next  came  as  a  visitor 
into  the  prison  quarters,  and  the  heartiness  of 
his  hand  clasp  was  in  itself  a  congratulation. 

"The  thing  was  carried  up  to  the  president  him- 
self," he  declared.  "Washington  is  sick  of  you,  Spur- 
rier. Because  of  you  miles  of  red  tape  have  been 
snarled  up.  Departments  have  worked  overtime  until 
the  single  hope  of  the  United  States  government  is  that 
it  may  never  hear  of  you  again.  You  don't  go  to 
prison,  after  all,  my  boy." 

"You  mean  I  am  pardoned?" 

Then,  remembering  that  the  rose  of  his  bringing 
carried  a  sharp  thorn  the  senior  proceeded  with  a  note 
of  concern  sobering  his  voice. 

"The  red  tape  has  not  only  been  tangled  because 
of  you — but  it  has  tangled  you  in  its  meshes,  too, 
Spurrier.  Yes,  you  are  pardoned.  You  are  as  free 
as  I  am — but  'in  view  of  the  gravely  convincing  evi- 
dence, et  cetera,  et  cetera' — it  seems  that  some  sort 
of  compromise  was  deemed  necessary." 

Spurrier  stood  where  he  had  risen  from  his  seat 
and  his  eyes  held  those  of  his  informant  with  a  blend- 
ing of  inquiry  and  suspense. 

"What  sort  of  compromise,  major?" 

"You  leave  the  army  with  a  dishonorable  discharge. 
i23 


«4      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

The  world  is  open  to  you  and  you've  got  an  equip- 
ment for  success — but  you  might  as  well  recognize 
from  the  start  that  you're  riding  with  a  heavy  impost 
in  your  saddle  clothes,  my  boy."  He  paused  a  moment 
and  then,  dropping  his  race-track  metaphor,  went  hur- 
riedly on:  "For  myself,  I  think  you're  guilty  or  inno- 
cent and  you  ought  to  be  hanged  or  clean-shriven.  I 
don't  get  this  dubious  middle  ground  of  freedom  with 
a  tarnished  name.  It's  going  to  crop  up  to  crab  things 
for  you  just  when  they  hang  in  the  balance,  and  I'm 
damned  if  I  can  see  its  fairness !  It  will  cause  men  to 
look  askance  and  to  say  'he  was  saved  from  rope- 
stretching  only  by  wire-pulling.' ' 

The  major  ended  somewhat  savagely  and  Spurrier 
made  no  answer.  He  was  gazing  out  at  the  patch  of 
blue  that  blazed  hotly  through  the  high,  barred  win- 
dow and,  seeing  there  reminders  of  the  bars  sinister 
that  would  henceforth  stand  between  himself  and  the 
sky. 

The  battalion  chief  interrupted  the  long  pause  to 
suggest: 

"The  Empress  sails  on  Tuesday.  If  I  were  you  I'd 
take  passage  on  her.  I  suppose  you  will,  won't  you  ?" 

"That  depends,"  answered  the  liberated  man  hesi- 
tantly. "I've  got  to  thank  the  senator — and,  though 
she  hasn't  sent  me  any  message,  there's  a  question  to 
ask  a  girl." 

"It's  none  of  my  business,  of  course,  Spurrier," 
came  the  advising  voice  quietly.  "But  the  Beverlys 
have  engaged  passage  on  the  Empress.  If  I  were  you, 
I'd  drop  a  formal  note  of  gratitude  and  leave  the  rest 
until  you  meet  them  aboard." 

After  a  moment's  thought  the  other  nodded.     "I'll 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      25 

follow  that  suggestion.  It  may  be  less  embarrassing 
for — them." 

"The  other  fellows  are  going  to  send  a  sort  of  a 
hamper  down  to  the  boat.  There  won't  be  any  cards, 
but  you'll  know  that  a  spirit  of  God-speed  goes  with 
the  stirrup  cup." 

For  an  instant  Spurrier  looked  puzzled  and  the 
major,  whose  note  of  embarrassment  had  been  grow- 
ing until  it  seemed  to  choke  him,  now  spluttered  and 
sought  to  bury  his  confusion  under  a  forced  paroxysm 
of  coughing. 

Then  impulsively  he  thrust  out  his  hand  and 
gripped  that  of  the  man  of  whom  just  now  he  could 
remember  only  gallant  things;  soldierly  qualities  and 
gently  bred  charm. 

"In  a  fashion,  Jack,  you  must  shake  hands  with  all 
of  them  through  me.  I  come  as  their  proxy.  They 
can't  give  you  a  blowout,  you  know.  They  can't  even 
come  to  see  you  off.  I  can  say  what  I  like  now.  The 
papers  aren't  signed  up  yet,  but  afterward — well,  you 
know!  Damn  it,  I  forget  the  exact  words  that  the 
Articles  of  War  employ — about  an  officer  who  goes 
out — this  way." 

"Don't  bother,  major.  I  get  your  meaning."  Spur- 
rier took  the  proffered  hand  in  both  his  own.  "No 
officer  can  give  me  social  recognition.  I  believe  the 
official  words  are  .that  I  shall  be  'deemed  ignominious.' 
Tell  the  boys  I  understand." 

On  the  sailing  day  John  Spurrier,  whose  engagingly 
bold  eyes  had  not  yet  learned  to  evade  the  challenge 
of  any  glance,  timed  his  arrival  on  board  almost  as 
surreptitiously  as  a  stowaway.  It  was  from  behind 
the  closed  door  of  his  own  stateroom  that  he  listened 


26      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

to  the  deck  commotion  of  laughter  and  leave-taking 
and  heard,  when  the  whistle  had  shrieked  its  warning 
to  shore-going  visitors,  the  grind  of  anchor  chain  on 
winch  and  windlass. 

That  evening  he  dined  in  an  inconspicuous  corner 
by  arrangement  with  the  dining-saloon  steward,  and 
bolted  his  meal  with  nervous  haste. 

From  afar,  as  he  had  stood  in  a  companion  way,  he 
had  glimpsed  a  panama-hatted  girl — a  girl  who  did 
not  see  him,  and  who  had  shown  only  between  the 
shifting  heads  and  shoulders  of  the  crowd.  He  could 
not  have  told  even  had  he  been  closer  whether  her 
gloved  left  hand  still  wore  upon  its  third  finger  the 
ring  that  he  had  put  there — before  things  had 
happened. 

He  must  face  the  issue  of  questioning  her  and  being 
questioned,  and  he  hoped  that  he  might  have  his  first 
meeting  with  her  alone — free  from  the  gaze  of  other 
eyes  that  would  torture  him,  and  perhaps  mortify  her. 

So  when  the  moon  had  risen  and  the  band  had 
begun  its  evening  concert  he  slipped  out  on  deck  and 
took  up  his  station  alone  at  the  stern  rail.  It  was  not 
entirely  dark  even  here,  but  the  light  was  mercifully 
tempered,  and  upon  the  promenaders  he  turned  his 
back,  remaining  in  a  seclusion  from  which,  writh  side- 
wise  glances,  he  appraised  each  figure  that  drifted  by. 

Once  his  eyes  encountered  those  of  a  tall  and  elderly 
gentleman  in  uniform  upon  whose  shoulder  straps 
glittered  the  brigadier's  single  star. 

For  an  instant  Spurrier  forgot  the  sadly  altered 
color  of  his  status  and  his  hand,  answering  to  instinct, 
rose  in  salute,  while  his  lips  parted  in  a  smile. 

But  the  older  man,  who  fortunately  was  alone,  after 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      27 

an  embarrassed  instant  went  on,  pretending  an  absent- 
mindedness  that  ignored  the  salutation.  Spurrier 
could  feel  that  the  general  was  scarcely  more  com- 
fortable than  himself. 

Slowly,  at  length,  he  left  his  outlook  over  the  phos- 
phorescent wake  and  drifted  isolatedly  about  the  decks, 
giving  preference  to  the  spots  where  the  shadows  lay 
heaviest.  But  when  his  wandering  brought  him  again 
to  the  place  he  had  abandoned  at  the  stern,  he  found 
that  it  had  been  preempted  by  another.  A  figure  stood 
there  alone  and  so  quiet  that  at  first  he  hardly  dis- 
tinguished it  as  separate  from  the  black  contour  of  a 
capstan. 

But  with  the  realization  he  recognized  a  panama 
hat,  from  under  whose  brim  escaped  a  breeze-stirred 
strand  of  dark  hair,  and  promptly  he  stepped  to  the 
rail,  his  rubber-soled  shoes  making  no  sound. 

The  girl  did  not  hear  him,  nor  did  she,  as  he  found 
himself  reflecting,  feel  his  presence  as  lovers  do  in 
romances,  and  turn  to  greet  him  before  he  announced 
himself.  But  as  she  stood  there  in  the  shadow,  with 
moonlight  and  starlight  around  her,  his  pulses  quick- 
ened with  an  insupportable  commotion  of  mingled 
hope  and  fear. 

Her  beauty  was  that  of  the  aristocrat.  It  was  this 
patrician  quality  which  had  first  challenged  his  inter- 
est in  her  and  answered  to  his  own  inordinate  pride  of 
self-confidence. 

He  had  liked  the  lightness  with  which  her  small  feet 
trod  the  earth  and  the  prideful  tilt  of  her  exquisitely 
modeled  chin. 

After  all,  he  had  known  her  only  a  short  time — 
and  now  he  realized  that  he  did  not  know  her  well: 


28      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

certainly  not  well  enough  to  estimate  with  any  surety 
how  they  would  meet  again,  after  an  interval  which 
had  tarnished  the  name  that  had  come  to  him  from 
two  generations  of  accrued  distinction. 

He  bent  forward,  and,  in  a  low  voice,  spoke  her 
name,  and  she  turned  without  a  start  so  that  she  stood 
looking  into  his  eyes. 

"I  suppose  you  know,"  he  began,  and  for  once  he 
spoke  without  self-assurance,  "that  I  didn't  hunt  you 
out  sooner  because  I  wanted  to  spare  you  embarrass- 
ment. I  knew  you  were  sailing  by  this  boat — and  so 
I  took  it,  too." 

She  nodded  her  head,  but  remained  silent.  Her 
eyes  met  his  and  lingered,  but  they  were  like  curtained 
windows  and  told  him  nothing.  It  was  as  if  she 
wished  to  let  him  pitch  the  plane  of  their  meeting 
without  interference,  and  he  was  grateful. 

"I  don't  suppose,"  he  began,  forcing  himself  to 
speak  with  forthright  directness,  "I  need  protest  my 
innocence  to  you — and  I  don't  suppose  I  need  confess 
that  the  stigma  will  stick  to  me — that  in — some  quar- 
ters— it  will  mean  ostracism.  I  wanted  to  meet  you 
the  first  time  alone  as  much  for  your  sake  as  my  own." 

"I  know "  she  agreed  faintly,  but  there  was  no 

rush  of  confidence,  of  sympathy  that  thought  only  of 
the  black  situation  in  which  he  stood. 

"I  know,  too,"  he  went  on  with  the  same  steadiness, 
"that  but  for  your  father's  efforts  I  should  have  had 
to  spend  the  rest  of  my  life  in  prison.  Above  all,  I 
know  that  your  father  made  those  efforts  because  you 
ordained  it." 

"It  was  too  horrible,"  she  whispered  with  a  little 
shudder.  "It  was  inconceivable." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      29 

"It  still  is,"  he  reminded  her.  "There  is  a  question, 
then,  to  be  asked — a  question  for  you  to  answer." 

The  girl's  hands  dropped  on  the  rail  and  her  fingers 
tightened  as  her  eyes,  deeply  pained,  went  off  across 
the  wake.  She  seemed  unable  to  help  him,  unable  to 
do  more  than  give  back  monosyllabic  responses  to  the 
things  he  said. 

"Of  course,  I  can't  assume  that  the  promise  you 
gave  me — before  all  this — still  stands,  unless  you  can 
ratify  it.  I'm  the  same  man,  yet  quite  a  different, 
man." 

At  last  she  turned,  and  he  saw  that  her  lashes  were 
wet  with  tears. 

"Some  day,"  she  suggested  almost  pleadingly,  "some 
day  surely  you  will  be  able  to  clear  your  name — now 
that  you're  free  to  give  yourself  to  it." 

He  shook  his  head.  "That  is  going  to  be  the  pur- 
pose of  my  life,"  he  answered.  "But  God  only 
knows " 

"When  you  have  done  that,"  she  impetuously  ex- 
claimed, "come  back  to  me.  I'll  wait." 

But  Spurrier  shook  his  head  and  stiffened  a  little, 
not  indignantly,  but  painfully,  and  his  face  grew  paler 
than  it  had  yet  been. 

"That  is  generous  of  you,"  he  said  slowly.  "That 
is  the  best  I  had  the  right  to  hope  for — but  it's  not 
enough.  It  would  be  a  false  position  for  you — with  a 
mortgage  of  doubt  on  your  future.  I've  got  to  face 
this  thing  nakedly.  I've  got  to  depend  only  on  those 
people  who  don't  need  proof — who  simply  know  that 
I  must  be  innocent  of — of  this  because  it  would  be  im- 
possible for  me  to  be  guilty  of  it — people,"  he  added, 
his  voice  rising  with  just  a  moment's  betrayal  of 


30      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

boyish  passion,  "who  will  take  the  seeming  facts,  just 
as  they  are,  and  still  say,  'Damn  the  facts !' ' 

"Can  I  do  that?"  She  asked  the  question  honestly, 
with  eyes  in  which  sincere  tears  glistened,  and  at  last 
words  came  in  freshet  volume.  "Can  I  ignore  the 
fact  that  father  is  in  public  life,  where  his  affairs  and 
those  of  his  family  are  public  property?  You  know 
he  is  talked  of  as  presidential  timber.  Can  I  ask  him 
to  move  heaven  and  earth  to  give  you  back  your 
liberty — and  then  have  his  critics  say  that  it  was  all 
for  a  member  of  his  own  family — a  private  use  of 
public  power?" 

"Then  you  want  your  promise  back?"  he  demanded 
quietly. 

Suddenly  the  girl  carried  her  hands  to  her  face,  a 
face  all  the  lovelier  for  its  distress.  "I  don't — know 
what — I  want,"  she  gasped. 

Her  lover  stood  looking  down  at  her,  and  his 
temples  grew  coldly  moist  where  the  veins  stood  out. 

"If  you  don't  know  what  you  want,  dear,  I  know 
one  thing  that  you  can't  do,"  he  said.  "Under  these 
circumstances,  your  only  chance  of  happiness  would 
lie  in  your  wanting  one  thing  so  much  that  the  rest 
wouldn't  count."  He  paused,  and  then  he,  too,  moved 
aside  and  stood  with  her,  leaning  on  the  rail  while 
in  the  phosphorescent  play  of  the  water  and  the  broken 
reflections  of  the  low-hung  stars  he  seemed  to  find  a 
sort  of  anodyne. 

"I  said  that  what  you  offered  was  the  most  I  had 
the  right  to  hope  for.  That  was  true.  Your  father's 
objections  are  legitimate.  I  owe  you  both  more  than 
I  can  ever  pay — but  I  won't  add  to  that  debt." 

"I  thought,"  said  the  girl  miserably,  "that  I  loved 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      31 

you — enough  for  anything.  The  shock  of  all  this — 
has  made  my  mind  swirl  so  that  now — I'm  not  sure  of 
anything." 

"Yes,"  he  said  dully,  "I  understand." 

Yet  perhaps  what  he  understood,  or  thought  he 
understood,  just  then  was  either  more  or  less  than 
implied  in  the  deferential  compliance  of  his  voice. 
This  girl  had  given  her  promise  to  an  officer  and  a 
gentleman  with  two  generations  of  gallant  army 
record  behind  him  and  a  promising  future  ahead.  She 
was  talking  now  to  one  who,  in  the  words  of  the  Arti- 
cles of  War  was  neither  an  officer  nor  a  gentleman  and 
who  had  been  saved  from  life  imprisonment  only  by 
influence  of  her  own  importuning. 

Her  own  distress  of  mind  and  incertitude  were  so 
palpable  and  pathetic  that  the  man  had  spoken  with 
apology  in  his  voice,  because  through  him  she  had 
been  forced  into  her  dilemma.  Yet,  until  now,  he  had 
been  young  enough  and  naive  enough  to  believe  in 
certain  tenets  of  romance — and,  in  romance,  a  woman 
who  really  loved  a  man  would  not  be  weighing  at 
such  a  time  her  father's  aspirations  toward  the  White 
House.  In  romance,  even  had  he  been  as  guilty  as 
perdition,  he  would  have  stood  in  her  eyes,  incapable 
of  crime.  Palpably  life  and  romance  tollowed  variant 
laws  and,  for  a  bitter  moment.  Spurrier  wished  that 
the  senator  had  kept  hands  off,  and  left  him  to  his  fate. 

He  had  heard  the  senator  himself  characterized  as 
a  man  cold-bloodedly  ambitious  and  contemptuous  of 
others  and,  having  seen  only  the  genial  side  of  that 
prominent  gentleman,  he  had  resentfully  denied  such 
statements  and  made  mental  comment  of  the  calumny 
that  attaches  to  celebrity. 


Yet,  Spurrier  argued  to  himself,  the  girl  was  right. 
Quite  probably  if  he  had  a  sister  similarly  placed,  he 
would  be  seeking  to  show  her  the  need  of  curbing  im- 
pulse with  common  sense. 

From  a  steamer  chair  off  somewhere  at  their  backs 
came  a  low  peal  of  laughter,  and  the  orchestra  was 
busy  with  a  fox  trot.  For  perhaps  five  minutes  neither 
of  them  spoke  again,  but  at  last  the  girl  twisted  the 
ring  from  her  finger.  At  least  her  loyalty  had  kept  it 
there  until  she  could  remove  it  in  his  presence.  She 
handed  it  to  him  and  he  turned  it  this  way  and  that. 
The  moonlight  teased  from  its  setting  a  jet  of  cold 
radiance. 

Then  Spurrier  tossed  it  outward  and  watched  the 
white  arc  of  its  bright  vanishing.  He  heard  a  muffled 
sob  and  saw  the  girl  turn  and  start  toward  the  com- 
panionway  door.  Instinctively  he  took  a  step  forward 
following,  then  halted  and  stood  where  he  was. 

Later,  Spurrier  forced  himself  toward  the  smoke 
room  where  already  under  cigar  and  cigarette  smoke, 
poker  and  bridge  games  were  in  progress,  and  where 
in  little  groups  those  men  who  were  not  playing  dis- 
cussed the  topics  of  East  and  West.  He  was  follow- 
ing no  urge  of  personal  fancy  in  entering  that  place, 
but  rather  obeying  a  resolution  he  had  made  out  there 
on  deck.  Now  that  he  had  asked  his  question  and 
had  his  answer  there  was  nothing  from  which  he 
could  afford  to  hide.  He  knew  that  he  came  her- 
alded by  the  advance  agency  of  gossip  and  that  it  be- 
hooved him  from  the  start  to  meet  and  give  back 
glance  for  glance:  to  declare  by  his  bearing  that  he 
had  no  intention  of  skulking,  and  no  apologies  to 
make. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      33 

Yet,  having  reached  the  entrance  from  the  deck, 
he  hesitated,  and  while  he  still  stood,  with  his  back  to 
the  lighted  door  of  the  smoke  room,  he  reeled  under 
a  sudden  impact  and  was  thrown  against  the  rail.  Re- 
covering himself  with  an  exclamation  of  anger,  Spur- 
rier found  himself  confronting  a  man  rising  from  his 
knees,  whose  awkwardness  had  caused  the  collision. 

But  the  stumbling  person  having  regained  his  feet, 
stood  seemingly  shaken  by  his  fall,  and  after  a 
moment,  during  which  Spurrier  eyed  him  with  hostile 
silence,  exclaimed: 

"Plunger  Spurrier!" 

"That  is  not  my  name,  sir,"  retorted  the  ex-officer 
hotly.  "And  it's  not  one  that  I  care  to  have  strangers 
employ." 

The  man  drew  back  a  step,  and  the  light  from  the 
doorway  fell  across  a  face  a  little  beyond  middle  age; 
showing  a  broad  forehead  and  strongly  chiseled  fea- 
tures upon  which  sat  an  expression  of  directness  and 
force. 

"My  apology  is,  at  least,  as  ready  as  was  my  ex- 
clamation," declared  the  stranger  in  a  pleasant  voice 
that  disarmed  hostility.  "The  term  was  not  meant 
offensively.  I  saw  you  at  Oakland  one  day  when  a 
race  was  run,  and  I've  heard  certain  qualities  of  yours 
yarned  about  at  mess  tables  in  the  East.  I  ask  your 
pardon." 

"It's  granted,"  acceded  Spurrier  of  necessity.  "And 
since  you've  heard  of  me,  you  doubtless  know  enough 
to  make  allowances  for  my  short  temper  and  ex- 
cuse it." 

"I  have  heard  your  story,"  admitted  the  other  man 


34      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

frankly.  "My  name  is  Snowdon.  It's  just  possible 
you  may  have  heard  of  me,  too.'* 

"You're  not  Snowdon  the  engineer:  the  Panama 
Canal  man,  the  Chinese  railway  builder,  are  you?" 

"I  had  a  hand  in  those  enterprises,"  was  the  answer, 
and  with  a  slight  bow  the  gentleman  went  his  way. 

The  spot  where  the  two  men  had  stood  talking  was 
far  enough  aft  to  look  down  on  the  space  one  deck 
lower  and  one  degree  farther  astern,  where,  as  through 
a  well  space,  showed  the  meaner  life  of  the  steerage. 
There  was  a  light  third-class  list  on  this  voyage,  and 
when  Spurrier  moved  out  of  the  obscurity  which  had 
been  thrown  over  him  by  the  life -boat's  shadow,  he 
stood  gazing  idly  down  on  an  empty  prospect.  He 
gazed  with  an  interest  too  moodily  self -centered  for 
easy  inciting. 

He  himself  stood  now  clear  shown  under  the  frosted 
globe  of  an  overhead  light  and,  after  a  little,  roused 
to  a  tepid  curiosity,  he  fancied  he  could  make  out 
what  seemed  to  be  a  human  figure  that  clung  to  the 
blackest  of  the  shadows  below  him. 

He  even  fancied  that  in  that  lower  darkness  he 
caught  the  momentary  dull  glint  of  metal  reflecting 
some  half  light,  and  an  impression  of  furtive  move- 
ment struck  in  upon  him.  But  after  a  moment's 
scrutiny,  which  failed  to  clarify  the  picture,  he  decided 
that  his  imagination  had  invented  the  vague  shape  out 
of  nothing  more  tangible  than  shadow.  If  there  had 
been  a  man  there  he  seemed  to  have  dissolved  now. 

So  Spurrier  turned  away. 

Had  his  eyes  possessed  a  nearer  kinship  to  those  of 
the  cat,  which  can  read  the  dark,  he  would  have  altered 
his  course  of  action  from  that  instant  forward.  He 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      35 

would,  first,  have  gone  to  the  captain  and  demanded 
permission  to  search  the  steerage  for  an  ex-private  of 
the  infantry  company  that  had  lately  been  his  own;  a 
private  against  whose  name  on  the  muster  roll  stood 
the  entry:  "Dead  or  deserted." 

Yet  when  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  passed  from 
the  lighted  area  he  unconsciously  walked  out  of  range 
of  a  revolver  aimed  at  his  breast — thereby  temporarily 
settling  for  the  man  who  fingered  the  trigger  his  ques- 
tion, "to  shoot  or  not  to  shoot." 

For  Private  Grant,  a  fleeing  deserter,  convalescent 
from  fever  and  lunacy,  had  been  casting  up  the 
chances  of  his  own  life  just  then  and  debating  the  dan- 
gers and  advantages  of  letting  Spurrier  live.  Recog- 
nizing his  former  officer  as  he  himself  looked  out  of 
his  hiding,  his  first  impulse  had  been  one  of  panic 
terror  and  in  Spurrier  he  had  seen  a  pursuer. 

The  finger  had  twitched  nervously  on  the  trigger — 
then  while  he  wavered  in  decision  the  other  had 
calmly  walked  out  of  range.  Now,  if  he  kept  out  of 
sight  until  they  reached  Frisco,  the  deserter  told  him- 
self, a  larger  territory  would  spread  itself  for  his 
escape  than  the  confines  of  a  steamer,  and  he  belonged 
to  a  race  that  can  bide  its  time. 


CHAPTER  IV 

SPURRIER  entered  the  smoke  room  and  stood 
for  a  moment  in  its  threshold. 

There  were  uniforms  there,  and  some  men  in 
them  whom  he  had  known,  though  now  these  other- 
time  acquaintances  avoided  his  eye  and  the  necessity 
of  an  embarrassment  which  must  have  come  from 
meeting  it. 

But  from  an  alcove  seat  near  the  door  rose  a 
stocky  gentleman,  well  groomed  and  indubitably  dis- 
tinguished of  guise,  who  had  been  tearing  the  covering 
from  a  bridge  deck. 

"Spurrier,  my  boy,"  he  exclaimed  cordially,  "I'm 
glad  to  see  you.  I  read  your  name  on  the  list.  Won't 
you  join  us?" 

This  was  the  man  who  had  rolled  away  the  moun- 
tains of  official  inertia  and  saved  him  from  prison; 
who  had  stipulated  with  his  daughter  that  she  should 
not  write  to  him  in  his  cell;  and  who  now  embraced 
the  first  opportunity  to  greet  him  publicly  with  cordial 
words.  Here,  reflected  the  cashiered  soldier,  was  poise 
more  calculated  than  his  own,  and  he  smiled  as  he 
shook  his  head,  giving  the  answer  which  he  knew  to 
be  expected  of  him. 

"No,  thank  you,  senator."  Then  he  added  a  re- 
quest: "But  if  these  gentlemen  can  spare  you  for  a 
few  minutes  I  would  appreciate  a  word  with  you.'' 

"Certainly,  my  boy."    With  a  glance  about  the  little 
36 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      37 

company  which  made  his  excuses,  Beverly  rose  and 
linked  his  arm  through  Spurrier's,  but  when  they 
stood  alone  on  deck  that  graciousness  stiffened  immed- 
iately into  manner  more  austere. 

"I've  seen  Augusta,"  began  the  younger  man  briefly, 
"and  told  her  I  wouldn't  seek  to  hold  her  to  her 
promise  I  suppose  that  meets  with  your  approval ?" 

The  public  man,  whom  rumor  credited  with  presi- 
dential aspirations,  nodded.  "Under  the  circum- 
stances it  is  necessary.  I  may  as  well  be  candid.  I 
tried  vainly  to  persuade  her  to  throw  you  over  en- 
tirely, but  I  had  to  end  in  a  compromise.  She  agreed 
not  to  communicate  with  you  in  any  manner  until 
your  trial  came  to  its  conclusion." 

The  cashiered  officer  felt  his  temples  hammering 
with  the  surge  of  indignant  blood  to  his  forehead. 
This  man  who  had  so  studiedly  and  successfully 
feigned  genuine  pleasure  at  seeing  him,  when  other 
eyes  were  looking  on,  was  telling  him  now  with  sala- 
mander coolness  that  he  had  urged  upon  his  daughter 
the  policy  of  callous  desertion.  The  impulse  toward 
resentful  retort  was  almost  overpowering,  but  with 
it  came  the  galling  recognition  that,  except  for  Bev- 
erly's bull-dog  pertinacity,  Spurrier  himself  would 
have  been  a  life-termer,  and  that  now  humility  be- 
came him  better  than  anger. 

"Did  you  seek  to  have  Augusta  throw  me  over, 
without  even  a  farewell — because  you  believed  me 
guilty,  sir?"  His  inquiry  came  quietly  and  the  older 
man  shook  a  noncommittal  head. 

"It's  not  so  much  what  I  think  as  what  the  world 
will  think,"  he  made  even  response.  "To  put  it  in 
the  kindest  words,  Spurrier,  you  rest  under  a  cloud." 


38      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"Senator,"  said  the  other  in  measured  syllables,  *'I 
rest,  also,  under  a  great  weight  of  obligation  to  you, 
but,  there  were  times,  sir,  when  for  a  note  from  her 
I'd  willingly  have  accepted  the  death  penalty." 

"I  won't  pretend  that  I  fail  to  understand — even 
to  sympathize  with  you,"  came  the  answer.  "You 
must  see  none  the  less  that  I  had  no  alternative.  Au- 
gusta's husband  must  be — well,  like  Caesar's  wife." 

"There  is  nothing  more  to  be  said,  I  think,''  ad- 
mitted Spurrier,  and  the  senator  held  out  his  hand. 

"In  every  other  matter,  I  feel  only  as  your  friend. 
It  will  be  better  if  to  other  eyes  our  relations  remain 
cordial.  Otherwise  my  efforts  on  your  behalf  would 
give  the  busy-bodies  food  for  gossip.  That's  what  we 
are  both  seeking  to  avoid." 

Spurrier  bowed  and  watched  the  well-groomed  fig- 
ure disappear. 

The  cloudless  days  and  the  brilliant  nights  of  low- 
hung  stars  and  phosphor  waters  were  times  of  mem- 
orable opportunity  and  paradise  for  other  lovers  on 
that  steamer.  For  Spurrier  they  were  purgatorial 
and  when  he  realized  Augusta  Beverly's  clearly  indi- 
cated wish  that  he  should  leave  her  free  from  the  em- 
barrassment of  any  tete-a-tete,  he  knew  definitely  that 
her  silence  was  as  final  as  words  could  have  made  it. 
The  familiar  panama  hat  seen  at  intervals  and  the 
curve  of  the  cheek  that  he  had  once  been  privileged  to 
kiss  seemed  now  to  belong  to  an  orbit  of  life  remote 
from  his  own  with  an  utterness  of  distance  no  less 
actual  because  intangible. 

The  young  soldier's  nature,  which  had  been  prod- 
igally generous,  began  to  harden  into  a  new  and  un- 
lovely bitterness.  Once  he  passed  her  as  she  leaned 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      39 

on  the  rail  with  a  young  lieutenant  who  was  going  to 
the  States  on  his  first  leave  from  Island  duty,  and 
when  the  girl  met  his  eyes  and  nodded,  the  cub  of  an 
officer  looked  up — and  cut  him  dead  with  needless 
ostentation. 

For  the  old  general,  who  had  pretended  not  to  see 
him,  Jack  Spurrier  had  felt  only  the  sympathy  due  to 
a  man  bound  and  embarrassed  by  a  severe  code  of 
etiquette,  but  with  this  cocksure  young  martinet,  his 
hands  itched  for  chastisement. 

Throughout  the  trying  voyage  Spurrier  felt  that 
Snowdon,  the  engineer,  was  holding  him  under  an  in- 
terested sort  of  observation,  and  this  surveillance  he 
mildly  resented,  though  the  entire  politeness  of  the 
other  left  him  helpless  to  make  his  feeling  outspoken. 
But  when  they  had  stood  off  from  Honolulu  and 
brought  near  to  completion  the  last  leg  of  the  Pacific 
voyage,  Snowdon  invited  him  into  his  own  stateroom 
and  with  candid  directness  spoke  his  mind. 

"Spurrier,"  he  began,  "I'd  like  to  have  a  straight 
talk  with  you  if  you  will  accept  my  assurance  of  the 
most  friendly  motive." 

Spurrier  was  not  immediately  receptive.  He  sat 
eying  the  other  for  a  little  while  with  a  slight  frown 
between  his  eyes,  but  in  the  end  he  nodded. 

"I  should  dislike  to  seem  churlish,"  he  answered 
slowly.  "But  I've  had  my  nerves  rubbed  raw  of 
late,  and  they  haven't  yet  grown  callous." 

"You  see,  it's  rather  in  my  line,"  suggested  Snow- 
don by  way  of  preface,  "to  assay  the  minerals  of  char- 
acter in  men  and  to  gauge  the  percentage  of  pay-dirt 
that  lies  in  the  lodes  of  their  natures.  So  I've  watched 
you,  and  if  you  care  to  have  the  results  of  my  super- 


40      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

ficial  research,  I'm  ready  to  report.  No  man  knows 
himself  until  introduced  to  himself  by  another,  be- 
cause one  can't  see  one's  self  at  sufficient  distance  to 
gain  perspective." 

Spurrier  smiled.  "So  you're  like  the  announcer  at 
a  boxing  match,"  he  suggested.  "You're  ready  to 
say,  'Plunger  Spurrier,  shake  hands  with  Jack  Spur- 
rier— both  members  of  this  club.' ' 

"Precisely,"  assented  Snowdon  as  naturally  as 
though  there  had  been  no  element  of  facetiousness  in 
the  suggestion.  "And  now  in  the  first  place,  what  do 
you  mean  to  do  with  yourself?" 

"I  have  no  idea." 

"I  suppose  you  have  thought  of  the  possibilities 
open  to  a  West  Point  man — as  a  soldier  of  fortune?" 

"Yes,"  the  answer  was  unenthusiastic.  "Thought 
of  them  and  discarded  them." 

"Why?" 

The  voice  laughed  and  then  spoke  contemptuously. 

"A  man's  sword  belongs  to  his  flag.  It  can  no 
more  be  honorably  hired  out  than  a  woman's  love.  I 
can  see  in  either  only  a  form  of  prostitution." 

"Good!"  exclaimed  Snowdon  heartily.  "I  couldn't 
have  coached  you  to  a  better  answer.  Are  you  finan- 
cially independent?" 

"On  the  contrary,  I  have  nothing.  Until  now  there 

was  my  pay  and "  He  paused  there  but  went  on 

again  with  a  dogged  self-forcing.  "I  might  as  well 
confess  that  the  gaming  table  has  always  left  a  bal- 
ance on  my  side  of  the  ledger." 

"I  haven't  seen  you  playing  since  you  came  aboard." 

"No.    I've  cut  that  out " 

"Good  again — and  that  brings  us  to  where  I  stop 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      41 

eliciting  information  about  yourself  and  begin  giving 
it.  I  had  heard  of  your  gambling  exploits  before  I 
saw  you.  I  found  that  you  had  that  cold  quality  of 
nerve  which  a  few  gamblers  have,  fewer  than  are 
credited  with  it,  by  far!  Incidentally,  it's  precisely 
the  same  quality  that  makes  notable  generals — and 
adroit  diplomats — if  they  have  the  other  qualities  to 
support  it.  It's  sublimated  self-control  and  boldness. 
You  were  using  it  badly,  but  it  was  because  you  were 
seeking  an  outlet  through  the  wrong  channels.  So  I 
studied  you,  quite  impersonally.  Your  situation  on 
board  wasn't  easy  or  enviable.  You  knew  that  eyes 
followed  you  and  tongues  wagged  about  you  with  a 
morbid  interest.  You  saw  chatting  groups  fall  ab- 
ruptly silent  when  you  approached  them  and  officers 
you  had  once  fraternized  with  look  hurriedly  else- 
where. In  short,  my  young  friend,  you  have  faced 
an  acid  test  of  ordeal,  and  you  have  borne  yourself 
with  neither  the  defiance  of  braggadocio,  nor  the  visi- 
ble hint  of  flinching.  If  I  were  looking  for  a  certain 
type  of  specialized  ability,  I  should  say  you  had  quali- 
fied." 

A  flush  spread  on  the  face  of  the  listener. 

"You  are  indeed  introducing  me  to  some  one  I 
haven't  known,"  he  said. 

"I  know,  too,"  went  on  Snowdon,  "that  there  has 
been  a  girl — and,"  he  hastened  to  add  as  his  com- 
panion stiffened,  "I  mention  her  only  to  show  you 
that  my  observations  have  not  been  too  superficial. 
Those  qualities  which  I  have  catalogued  have  engaged 
my  attention,  because  they  are  rare — rare  enough  to 
be  profitably  capitalized." 

"All  this  is  parable  to  me,  sir." 


42      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"Quite  probably.  I  mean  to  construe  it.  There  are 
men  who  originate  or  discover  great  opportunities  of 
industry — and  they  need  capital  to  bring  their  plans 
to  fruition — but  capital  can  be  approached  only 
through  envoys  and  will  receive  only  ambassadors  who 
can  compel  recognition.  The  man  who  can  hope  to  be 
successfully  accredited  to  the  court  of  Big  Money 
must  possess  uncommon  attributes.  Pinch-beck  pro- 
moters and  plausible  charlatans  have  made  cynics  of 
our  lords  of  wealth." 

"What  would  such  a  man  accomplish,"  inquired 
Spurrier,  "aside  from  a  sort  of  non-resident  member- 
ship in  the  association  of  plutocrats?" 

"He  would,"  declared  Snowdon  promptly,  "help 
bridge  the  chasm  between  the  world's  unfinanced 
achievers,  and  its  unachieving  finances." 

"That,"  conceded  the  ex-soldier,  "would  be  worth 
the  doing." 

"John  Law  at  twenty-one  built  a  scheme  of  finance 
for  Great  Britain,"  the  engineer  reminded  him.  "He 
could  come  into  the  presence  of  a  king  and  in  five  min- 
utes the  king  would  urge  him  to  stay.  Force  and  pres- 
ence can  make  such  an  ambassador,  and  those  things 
are  the  veins  of  human  ore  I've  assayed  in  you  in 
paying  quantities." 

Spurrier  looked  across  at  the  strange  companion 
whom  chance  had  thrown  across  his  path  with  a  com- 
motion of  pulses  which  his  face  in  no  wise  mirrored 
into  outward  expression.  It  had  begun  to  occur  to 
him  that  if  a  man  is  born  for  an  adventurous  life 
even  the  Articles  of  War  cannot  cancel  his  destiny. 

"It  would  seem,"  he  suggested  casually  enough, 
"that  this  need  of  which  you  speak  is  for  fellows,  in 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      43 

finance,  who  can  carry  the  message  to  Garcia,  as  it 
were.  Isn't  that  it?" 

"That's  it,  and  messengers  to  Garcia  don't  tramp  on 
each  other's  heels.  Yet  I  have  spoken  of  only  one 
phase  of  the  career  I'm  outlining.  It  has  another  side 
to  it  as  well,  if  one  man  is  going  to  unite  in  himself 
the  whole  of  the  possibility." 

Snowdon  broke  off  there  a  moment  and  seemed  to 
be  distracted  by  some  thought  of  his  own,  but  pres- 
ently he  began  again. 

"My  hypothetical  man  would  act  largely  as  a  free 
lance,  knocking  about  the  world  on  a  sort  of  con- 
stantly renewed  exploration.  He  would  be  the  pros- 
pector hunting  gold  and  the  explorer  searching  for 
new  continents  of  industrial  development,  only  in- 
stead of  being  just  the  one  or  the  other  he  would  be  a 
sort  of  sublimation.  His  job  would  sometimes  call 
him  into  the  wildernesses,  but  more  often,  I  think,  his 
discoveries  would  lie  under  the  noses  of  crowds, 
passed  by  every  day  by  clever  folk  who  never  saw 
them — clever  folk  who  are  not  quite  clever  enough." 

"It  would  seem  to  me  that  those  discoveries,"  de- 
murred Spurrier  thoughtfully,  "would  come  each  time 
to  some  highly  trained  technician  in  some  particular 
line." 

Snowdon  shook  his  head  again.  "That's  why  they 
have  come  slowly  heretofore,"  he  declared  with  con- 
viction. "That  man  I  have  in  mind  is  one  with  a 
sure  nose  for  the  trail  and  a  power  of  absorbing  read- 
ily and  rapidly  what  he  requires  of  the  other  man's 
technical  knowledge.  It's  the  policy  that  Japan  has 
followed  as  a  nation.  They  let  others  work  the  prob- 
lems out  over  there — then  they  appropriate  the  re- 


44      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

suits.  I'm  not  commending  it  as  a  national  trait,  but 
for  this  work  it's  the  first  essential.  Having  made 
his  discovery,  this  new  type  of  business  man  will 
enlist  for  it  the  needful  financial  support."  He  paused 
again  and  Spurrier,  lighting  a  fresh  cigarette,  re- 
garded him  through  eyes  slit-narrowed  against  the 
flare  of  the  match. 

"He  must  be  a  sort  of  opportunity  hound,"  con- 
tinued Snowdon  smilingly.  "He  would  go  baying 
across  the  world  in  full  cry  and  come  back  to  the  ken- 
nel at  the  end  of  each  chase." 

Spurrier  laughed.  "If  you'll  pardon  me,  sir,"  he 
hazarded,  "you  make  a  very  bad  metaphor.  I  should 
fancy  that  the  opportunity  hound  would  do  the  still- 
est sort  of  still  hunting." 

The  older  man  smiled  and  bowed  his  head  affirma- 
tively. 

"I  accept  the  amendment.  The  point  is,  do  I  give 
you  the  concept  of  the  work?" 

"In  a  broad,  extremely  sketchy  way,  I  think  I  get 
the  picture,"  replied  Spurrier.  "But  could  you  give 
me  some  sort  of  illustration  that  would  make  it  a 
shade  more  concrete  ?" 

His  companion  sat  considering  the  question  for  a 
while  and  at  last  inquired:  "Do  you  know  anything 
about  oil  ?  I  mean  about  its  production  ?" 

"I've  been  on  the  Pennsylvania  Railroad,  coming 
west,"  testified  the  former  lieutenant.  "And  I've  run 
through  ragged  hills  where  on  every  side,  stood 
clumsy,  timber  affairs  like  overgrown  windmills  from 
which  some  victorious  Don  Quizote  had  knocked  off 
the  whirligigs.  Then  I've  read  a  little  of  Ida  Tar- 
bell." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      45 

"Even  that  will  serve  for  a  sort  of  background. 
Now,  people  in  general  think  of  striking  oil  as  they 
might  think  of  finding  money  on  the  sidewalk  or  of 
lightning  striking  a  particular  spire — as  a  matter  of 
purest  chance.  To  some  extent  that  idea  is  correct 
enough,  but  the  brains  of  oil  production  are  less  hap- 
hazard. In  the  office  of  a  few  gentlemen  who  hold 
dominion  over  oil  and  gas  hangs  a  map  drawn  by  the 
intelligence  department  of  their  general  staff.  On  that 
map  are  traced  lines  not  unlike  those  showing  ocean 
currents,  but  their  arrows  point  instead  to  currents 
far  under  ground,  where  runs  the  crude  petroleum, 
discovered — and  undiscovered." 

"Undiscovered?"  Spurrier's  brows  were  lifted  in 
polite  incredulity,  but  his  companion  nodded  decis- 
ively. 

"Discovered  and  undiscovered,"  he  repeated. 
"Geological  surveys  told  the  mapmakers  how  certain 
lines  and  structures  ran  in  tendency.  Where  went  a 
particular  formation  of  Nature's  masonry,  there  in 
probability  would  go  oil.  The  method  was  not  abso- 
lute, I  grant  you,  but  neither  was  it  haphazard.  Sitting 
in  an  office  in  Pittsburgh  a  certain  man  drew  on  his 
chart  what  has  since  been  recognized  as  the  line  of 
the  forty-second  degree,  running  definitely  from  the 
Pennsylvania  fields  down  through  Ohio  and  into  the 
Appalachian  hills  of  Kentucky — thence  west  and 
south.  Study  your  fields  in  Oklahoma,  in  old  Mexico, 
and  you  will  find  that,  widely  separated  as  they  are, 
each  of  them  is  marked  by  a  cross  on  that  map,  and 
that  each  of  them  lies  along  the  current  trend  which 
the  Pittsburgh  man  traced  before  many  of  them  were 
touched  by  a  drill." 


46      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"That,  surely,"  argued  Spurrier,  ''testifies  for  the 
highly  skilled  technician,  doesn't  it?" 

"So  far.  I  now  come  to  the  chance  of  the  oppor- 
tunity hound.  The  present  fields  are  spots  of  pro- 
duction here  and  there.  Between  them  lie  others, 
virgin  to  pump  or  rig.  Much  of  that  ground  is,  of 
course,  barren  territory,  for  even  on  an  acre  of  proven 
location  dry  holes  may  lie  close  to  gushers;  one 
man's  farm  may  be  a  'duster'  while  his  neigh- 
bor's spouts  black  wealth.  But  along  that  charted 
line  run  the  probabilities." 

Into  Spurrier's  eyes  stole  the  gleam  of  the  adven- 
turing spirit  that  was  strong  in  him. 

"It  sounds  like  Robert  Louis  Stevenson  and  buried 
treasure,"  he  declared  with  unconcealed  enthusiasm, 
but  Snowdon  only  smiled. 

"Remember,"  he  cautioned,  "I'm  illustrating — 
nothing  more.  Now  in  the  foothills  of  the  Kentucky 
Cumberlands,  for  example,  some  years  ago  men  began 
finding  oil.  It  lay  for  the  most  part  in  a  country 
where  the  roads  were  creek  beds — remote  from  rail- 
way facilities.  It  was  an  expensive  sort  of  proposi- 
tion to  develop,  but  the  cry  of  'Oil!  Oil!'  has  never 
failed  to  set  the  pack  a-running,  and  it  ran." 

"I  don't  remember  hearing  of  that  rush,"  admitted 
Spurrier. 

"No,  I  dare  say  you  didn't.  It  was  a  flare-up  and  a 
die-down.  The  men  who  rushed  in,  plodded  deject- 
edly out  again,  poorer  by  the  time  they  had  spent." 

"Then  the  boom  collapsed?" 

"It  collapsed — but  why?  Because  the  gentlemen 
who  hold  dominion  over  oil  and  gas  caucussed  and  so 
ordained.  They  gathered  around  their  map  and  stuck 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      47 

pins  here  and  there.  They  said,  This  oil  can  come 
out  in  two  ways  only:  by  pipe  line  or  tank  cars.  We 
will  stand  aloof  and  develop  where  the  cost  is  less  and 
the  profit  greater — and  without  us,  it  cannot  suc- 
ceed.' " 

"Were  there  no  independent  concerns  to  bring  the 
stuff  to  market?" 

Snowdon  laughed.  "The  gentlemen  who  hold  do- 
minion have  their  own  defenses  against  competition. 
You  may  have  heard  of  a  certain  dog  in  the  manger? 
Well,  they  said  as  they  sat  about  their  table  on  which 
the  map  was  spread,  'Some  day  other  fields  may  run 
out.  Some  day  something  may  set  oil  soaring  until 
even  this  yield  may  be  well  worth  our  attention.  We 
will  therefore  hold  this  card  in  reserve  against  that 
day  and  that  contingency.'  So  quietly,  inconspicu- 
ously, yet  with  a  power  that  strangled  competition, 
lobbies  operated  in  State  legislatures.  The  indepen- 
dents failed  to  secure  needful  charters — the  lines  were 
never  laid.  Those  particular  fields  starved,  and  now 
the  ignorant  mountaineers  who  woke  for  a  while  to 
dreams  of  wealth,  laugh  at  the  man  who  says  'oil'  to 
them.  Yet  at  some  properly,  or  improperly  desig- 
nated day,  those  failure  fields  will  flash  on  the  aston- 
ished world  as  something  risen  from  the  dead,  and 
fortunes  will  blossom  for  the  lucky." 

"Yes?"  prompted  the  listener. 

"Now  let  us  suppose  our  opportunity  hound  as  will- 
ing to  go  unostentatiously  into  that  country;  as  will- 
ing to  spend  part  of  each  year  there  for  a  term  of 
years;  nipping  options  here  and  there,  waiting  pa- 
tiently and  watching  his  chance  to  slip  a  charter 
through  one  of  those  bound  and  gagged  legislatures  in 


48      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

some  moment  of  relaxed  vigilance.  Such  a  man  might 
find  himself  ultimately  standing  with  the  key  to  the 
situation  in  his  own  hand.  It's  just  a  story,  but  per- 
haps it  serves  to  give  you  my  meaning." 

"Did  I  understand  you  to  suggest,"  inquired  Spur- 
rier with  a  forced  calmness,  "that  you  fancy  you  see 
in  me  the  qualities  of  your  opportunity  hound?" 

"Our  own  concern,"  said  Snowdon  quietly,  "is  for- 
tunate enough  to  have  passed  through  the  period  of 
cooling  its  heels  in  the  anterooms  of  capital,  but  we 
can  still  use  a  man  such  as  I  have  described.  There's 
a  place  for  you  with  us  if  you  want  it." 

"When  do  I  go  to  work?"  demanded  the  former 
lieutenant  rising  from  his  seat,  and  .Snowdon  coun- 
tered : 

"When  will  you  be  ready  to  begin?" 

"When  we  dock  at  'Frisco,"  came  the  immediate  re- 
sponse, "provided  I  be  allowed  time  for  an  affair  of 
my  own,  two  months  from  now.  A  certain  private  in 
my  old  company  will  be  discharged  from  the  service 
then.  I  fancy  he'll  land  there,  and  I  want  to  be  wait- 
ing for  him  when  he  steps  ashore." 

"A  reprisal?"  inquired  Snowdon  in  a  disappointed 
tone,  but  the  other  shook  his  head. 

"He  is  the  one  man  through  whom  there's  a  chance 
of  clearing  my  name,"  Spurrier  said  slowly.  "I  hope 
it  won't  call  for  violence." 


CHAPTER  V 

PRIVATE  Grant  had  been  bred  of  the  blood  of 
hatred  and  suckled  in  vindictiveness.  He  had 
come  into  being  out  of  the  heritage  of  feud 
fighting  "foreparents,"  and  he  thought  in  the  terms  of 
his  ancestry. 

When  he  had  fled  into  the  jungle  beyond  the  island 
village,  though  he  had  been  demented  and  enfeebled, 
the  instinct  of  a  race  that  had  often  "hidden  out" 
guided  him.  That  instinct  and  chance  had  led  him  to 
a  native  house  where  his  disloyalty  gave  him  a  wel- 
come, and  there  he  had  found  sanctuary  until  his  fever 
subsided  and  he  emerged  cadaverous,  but  free.  Word 
had  filtered  through  to  him  there  of  Spurrier's  court- 
martial  and  its  result. 

In  the  course  of  time,  fever-wasted  yet  restored  out 
of  his  semi-lunacy,  he  had  made  his  way  furtively 
but  successfully  toward  Manila  and  there  he  had  sup- 
plemented the  sketchy  fragments  of  information  with 
which  his  disloyal  native  friends  had  been  able  to  pro- 
vide him. 

He  knew  now  that  the  accused  officer  had  pitched 
his  defense  upon  an  accusation  of  the  deserter  and 
the  refugee's  eyes  smoldered  as  he  learned  that  he 
himself  had  been  charged  with  prefacing  his  flight 
with  murder.  He  knew  what  that  meant.  The  dis- 
graced officer  would  move  heaven  and  earth  to  clear 

49 


50      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

his  smirched  name,  and  the  condition  precedent  would 
be  the  capture  of  Private  Grant  and  the  placing  of  him 
in  the  prisoner's  dock.  To  be  wanted  for  desertion 
was  grave  enough.  To  be  wanted  both  for  desertion 
and  the  assassination  of  his  company  commander  was 
infinitely  worse,  and  to  stand  in  that  position  and  face, 
as  he  believed  he  would  have  to,  a  conspiracy  of  class 
feeling,  was  intolerable. 

Haunting  the  shadowy  places  about  Manila,  Grant 
had  been  almost  crazed  by  his  fears  but  with  the  lift- 
ing of  the  steamer's  anchor,  a  great  spirit  of  hope  had 
brightened  in  him,  feeding  on  the  solace  of  the  thought 
that,  once  more  in  the  States,  he  could  lo^se  himself 
from  pursuit  and  vigilance. 

Then  he  had  seen,  on  the  same  ship,  the  face  of  the 
man  whom,  above  all  others,  he  had  occasion  to  fear ! 

For  their  joint  lives  the  world  was  not  large 
enough.  One  of  them  must  die,  and  in  the  passion 
that  swept  over  him  with  the  dread  of  discovery, 
Grant  had  skirted  a  relapse  into  his  recent  mania. 

At  that  moment  when  Spurrier  had  looked  down 
and  he  had  looked  up,  the  deserter  had  seen  only  one 
way-out,  and  that  was  to  kill.  But  when  the  other  had 
moved  away,  seemingly  without  recognition,  his 
thoughts  had  moved  more  lucidly  again. 

Until  he  had  tried  soldiering  he  had  known  only 
the  isolated  life  of  forested  mountains  and  here  on  a 
ship  at  sea  he  felt  surrounded  and  helpless — almost 
timid.  When  he  landed  at  San  Francisco,  if  his  luck 
held  him  undiscovered  that  long,  he  would  have  dry 
land  under  him  and  space  into  which  to  flee. 

The  refugee  had  hated  Comyn.  Now  Comyn  was 
dead  and  Grant  transferred  his  hatred  from  the  dead 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      51 

captain  to  the  living  lieutenant,  resolving  that  he  also 
must  die. 

The  moment  to  which  he  looked  forward  with  the 
most  harrowing  apprehension  was  that  when  the  ves- 
sel docked  and  put  her  passengers  ashore.  Here  at 
sea  a  comforting  isolation  lay  between  first  and  third 
cabin  passengers  and  one  could  remain  unseen  from 
those  deck  levels  that  lay  forward  and  above.  But 
with  the  arrangements  for  disembarkation,  he  was  un- 
familiar, and  for  all  he  knew,  the  steerage  people 
might  be  herded  along  under  the  eyes  of  those  who 
traveled  more  luxuriously.  He  might  have  to  march 
in  such  a  procession,  willy-nilly,  over  a  gang-plank 
swept  by  a  watchful  eye. 

So  Private  Grant  brooded  deeply  and  his  thoughts 
were  not  pretty.  Also  he  kept  his  pistol  near  him  and 
when  the  hour  for  debarkation  arrived  he  was  ripe  for 
trouble. 

It  happened  that  a  group  of  steerage  passengers, 
including  himself,  were  gathered  together  much  as  he 
had  feared  they  might  be,  and  Grant's  face  paled  and 
hardened  as  he  saw,  leaning  with  his  elbows  on  a  rail 
above  him  and  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  the  officer  whom 
he  dreaded. 

Grant's  hand  slipped  unobtrusively  under  his  coat 
and  his  eyes  narrowed  as  his  heart  tightened  and  be- 
came resolved. 

Spurrier  had  not  yet  seen  him  but  at  any  moment  he 
might  do  so.  There  was  nothing  to  prevent  the  wan- 
dering and  casual  glance  from  alighting  on  the  spot 
where  the  deserter  stood,  and  when  it  did  so  the 
mountaineer  would  draw  and  fire. 

But  as  the  ex-officer's  eyes  went  absently  here  and 


52      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

there  a  girl  passed  at  his  back  and  perhaps  she  spoke 
as  she  passed.  At  all  events  the  officer  straightened 
and  stiffened.  Across  his  face  flashed  swiftly  such  an 
expression  as  might  have  come  from  a  sudden  and 
stinging  blow,  and  then,  losing  all  interest  in  the  bustle 
of  the  lower  decks,  the  man  turned  on  his  heel  and 
walked  rapidly  away. 

The  deserter's  hand  stole  away  from  the  pistol 
grip  and  his  breath  ran  out  in  a  long,  sibilant  gasp  of 
relief  and  reaction.  When  later  he  had  landed  safely 
and  unmolested,  he  turned  in  flight  toward  the  moun- 
tains that  he  knew  over  there  across  the  continenj: — 
mountains  where  only  bloodhounds  could  run  him  to 
earth. 

Beyond  the  rims  of  those  forest-tangled  peaks  he 
had  never  looked  out  until  he  had  joined  the  army,  and 
once  back  in  them,  though  he  dare  not  go,  for  a  while, 
to  his  own  home  county,  he  could  shake  off  his  palsy 
of  fear. 

He  traveled  as  a  hobo,  moneyless,  ignorant,  and  un- 
prepossessing of  appearance,  yet  before  the  leaves 
began  to  fall  he  was  at  last  tramping  slopes  where  the 
air  tasted  sweeter  to  his  nostrils,  and  the  speech  of 
mankind  fell  on  his  ear  with  the  music  of  the  accus- 
tomed. 

The  name  of  Bud  Grant  no  longer  went  with  him. 
That,  since  it  carried  certain  unfulfilled  duties  to  an 
oath  of  allegiance,  he  generously  ceded  to  the  United 
States  Army,  and  contented  himself  with  the  random 
substitute  of  Sim  Colby. 

Now  he  tramped  swingingly  along  a  bowlder- 
broken  creek  bed  which  by  local  euphemism  was  called 
a  road.  When  his  way  led  him  over  the  backbone  of 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      53 

a  ridge  he  could  see,  almost  merged  with  the  blue  of 
the  horizon,  the  smoky  purple  of  a  sugar  loaf  peak, 
which  marked  his  objective. 

When  he  passed  that  he  would  be  in  territory  where 
his  journeying  might  end.  To  reach  it  he  must 
transverse  the  present  vicinity  in  which  a  collateral 
branch  of  his  large  family  still  dwelt,  and  where  he 
himself  preferred  to  walk  softly,  wary  of  possible  rec- 
ognition. 

To  the  man  whose  cerror  had  seen  in  every  casual 
eye  that  rested  on  him  while  he  crossed  a  continent, 
a  gleam  of  accusation,  it  was  as  though  he  had  reached 
sanctuary.  The  shoulders  that  he  had  forced  into  a 
hang-dog  slough  to  disguise  the  soldierly  bearing  which 
had  become  habitual  in  uniform,  came  back  into  a 
more  buoyant  and  upright  swing.  The  face  that  had 
been  sullen  with  fear  now  looked  out  with  something 
of  the  bravado  of  earlier  days,  and  the  whole  experi- 
ence of  the  immediate  past;  of  months  and  even  years, 
took  on  the  unreality  of  a  nightmare  from  which  he 
was  waking. 

The  utmost  of  caution  was  still  required,  but  the 
long  flight  was  reaching  a  goal  where  substantial 
safety  lay  like  a  land  of  promise.  It  was  a  land  of 
promise  broken  with  ragged  ranges  and  it  was 
fiercely  austere;  the  Cumberland  mountains  reared 
themselves  like  a  colossal  and  inhospitable  wall  of  iso- 
lation between  the  abundant  richness  of  lowland  Ken- 
tucky to  the  west,  and  Virginia's  slope  seaward  to  the 
east. 

But  isolation  spelled  refuge  and  the  taciturn  silences 
of  the  men  who  dwelt  there,  asking  few  questions  and 
answering  fewer,  gave  promise  of  unmolested  days. 


54      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

These  hills  were  a  world  in  themselves;  a  world 
that  had  stood,  marking  time  for  a  hundred  and  fifty 
years,  while  to  east  and  west  life  had  changed  and 
developed  and  marched  with  the  march  of  the  years. 
Sequestered  by  broken  steeps  of  granite  and  sand 
stone,  the  human  life  that  had  come  to  the  coves  and 
valleys  in  days  when  the  pioneers  pushed  westward, 
had  stagnated  and  remained  unaltered. 

Illiteracy  and  ignorance  had  sprung  chokingly  into 
weed-like  prevalence.  The  blood-feud  still  survived 
among  men  who  fiercely  insisted  upon  being  laws  unto 
themselves.  Speech  fell  in  quaint  uncouthness  that 
belonged  to  another  century,  and  the  tides  of  prog- 
ress that  had  risen  on  either  hand,  left  untouched  and 
uninfluenced  the  men  and  women  of  mountain  blood, 
who  called  their  lowland  brethren  "furriners"  and 
who  distrusted  all  that  was  "new-fangled"  or 
"fotched-on." 

Habitations  were  widely  separated  cabins.  Roads 
were  creek-beds.  Life  was  meager  and  stern,  and  in 
the  labyrinths  of  honeycombed  and  forest-tangled 
wilds,  men  who  were  "hidin'  out"  from  sheriffs,  from 
revenuers,  from  personal  enemies,  had  a  sentimental 
claim  on  the  sympathy  of  the  native-born. 

This  was  the  life  from  which  the  deserter  had 
sprung.  It  was  the  life  to  which  with  eager  impatience 
he  was  returning;  a  life  of  countless  hiding  places  and 
of  no  undue  disposition  to  goad  a  man  with  question- 
ing. 

Through  the  billowing  richness  of  the  Bluegrass 
lowlands,  he  had  hurried  with  a  homing  throb  in  his 
pulses.  As  the  foothills  began  to  break  out  of  the  fal- 
low meadows  and  the  brush  to  tangle  at  the  fringe  of 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      55 

the  smoothness,  his  breath  had  come  deeper  and  more 
satisfying.  When  the  foothills  rose  in  steepness  until 
low,  wet  streamers  of  cloud  trailed  their  slopes  like 
shrapnel  smoke,  and  the  timber  thickened  and  he  saw 
an  eagle  on  the  wing,  something  like  song  broke  into 
being  in  his  heart. 

He  was  home.  Home  in  the  wild  mountains  where 
air  and  the  water  had  zest  and  life  instead  of  the 
staleness  that  had  made  him  sick  in  the  flat  world 
from  which  he  came.  He  was  home  in  the  mountains 
where  others  were  like  him  and  he  was  not  a  bar- 
barian any  longer  among  contemptuous  strangers. 

He  plodded  along  the  shale-bottomed  water  course 
for  a  little  way  and  halted.  As  his  woodsman's  eye 
took  bearings  he  muttered  to  himself :  "Hit's  a  right 
slavish  way  through  them  la'rel  hills,  but  hit's  a  cut- 
off," and,  suiting  his  course  to  his  decision,  he  turned 
upward  into  the  thickets  and  began  to  climb. 

An  hour  later  he  had  covered  the  "hitherside"  and 
"yon  side"  of  a  small  mountain,  and  when  he  came  to 
the  highway  again  he  found  himself  confronted  by  a 
half  dozen  armed  horsemen  whose  appearance  gave 
him  apprehensive  pause,  because  at  once  he  recognized 
in  them  the  officialdom  of  the  law.  The  mounted 
travelers  drew  rein,  and  he  halted  at  the  roadside, 
nodding  his  greeting  in  affected  unconcern. 

The  man  who  had  been  riding  at  the  fore  held  in 
his  left  hand  the  halter  line  of  a  led  horse,  and  now  he 
looked  down  at  the  pedestrian  and  spoke  in  the  fa- 
miliar phrase  of  wayside  amenity. 

"Howdy,  stranger,  what  mout  yore  name  be?" 

"Sim  Colby  from  acrost  Hemlock  Mountain  ways, 


56      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

• 

but  I've  done  been  west  fer  a  year  gone  by,  though,  an' 
I'm  jest  broguein'  along  to'rds  home." 

The  questioner,  a  long,  gaunt  man  with  a  face  that 
had  been  scarred,  but  never  altered  out  of  its  obstinate 
set,  eyed  him  for  a  moment,  then  shot  out  the  ques- 
tion: 

"Did  ye  ever  hear  tell  of  Sam  Mosebury  over  thet- 
away  ?" 

It  was  lucky  that  the  fugitive  had  given  as  his  home 
a  territory  with  which  he  had  some  familiarity.  Now 
his  reply  came  promptly. 

"Yes,  I  knows  him  when  I  sees  him.  Some  folks 
used  ter  give  him  a  right  hard  name  over  thar,  but  I 
reckon  he's  all  right  ef  a  man  don't  aim  ter  crowd  him 
too  fur." 

"I  don't  know  how  fur  he  mout  of  been  crowded," 
brusquely  replied  the  man  with  the  extra  horse,  "but 
he  kilt  a  man  in  Rattletown  yestiddy  noon  an'  tuck 
ter  ther  woods.  I'm  after  him." 

The  foot  traveler  expressed  an  appropriate  interest, 
then  added: 

"Howsomever,  hit  aurt  none  of  my  affair,  an'  seein' 
thet  I've  got  a  right  far  journey  ahead  of  me,  I'll 
hike  along." 

But  the  leader  of  the  mounted  group  shook  his 
head. 

"One  of  my  men  got  horse  flung  back  thar  an'  broke 
a  bone  inside  him.  I'm  ther  high  sheriff  of  this  hyar 
county,  an'  I  hereby  summons  ye  ter  go  along  with 
me  an'  ack  as  a  member  of  my  possy." 

Under  his  tan  Private  Grant  paled  a  little.  This 
mischance  carried  a  triple  menace  to  his  safety.  It 
involved  riding  back  to  the  county  seat  where  some 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      57 

man  might  remember  his  face,  and  recall  that  two 
years  ago  he  had  gone  away  on  a  three  years'  enlist- 
ment But  even  if  he  escaped  that  contingency,  it 
meant  tarrying  in  this  neighborhood  through  which 
he  had  meant  to  pass  inconspicuously  and  rapidly.  To 
be  attached  to  a  posse  comitatus  riding  the  hills  on  a 
man  hunt  meant  to  challenge  every  passing  eye  with 
an  interest  beyond  the  casual. 

Finally,  though  he  might  well  have  forgotten  him, 
the  man  whose  trail  he  was  now  called  to  take  in  pur- 
suit had  once  known  him  slightly,  and  if  they  met 
under  such  hostile  auspices,  might  recognize  and  de- 
nounce him. 

But  the  sheriff  sat  enthroned  in  his  saddle  and  robed 
in  the  color  of  authority.  At  his  back  sat  five  other 
men  with  rifles  across  their  pommels,  and  with  such 
a  situation  there  was  no  argument.  The  law's  officer 
threw  the  bridle  rein  of  the  empty-saddled  mount  to 
the  man  in  the  road. 

"Get  up  on  this  critter,"  he  commanded  tersely, 
"and  don't  let  him  git  his  head  down  too  low.  He 
follers  buck-jumpin'." 

When  Grant,  alias  Colby,  found  that  the  men  rid- 
ing with  him  were  more  disposed  to  somber  silence 
than  to  inquisitiveness  or  loquacity,  he  breathed  easier. 
He  even  made  a  shrewd  guess  that  there  were  others 
in  that  small  group  who  answered  the  call  of  the  law 
as  reluctantly  as  he. 

Sam  Mosebury  was  accounted  as  dangerous  as  a 
rattlesnake,  and  Bud  doubted  whether  even  the  high 
sheriff  himself  would  make  more  than  a  perfunctory 
effort  to  come  to  grips  with  him  in  his  present  desper- 
ation. 


58      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

When  the  posse  had  ridden  several  hours,  and  had 
come  to  a  spot  in  the  forest  where  the  trail  forked 
diversely,  a  halt  was  called.  They  had  traveled  steep 
ways  and  floundered  through  many  belly-deep  fords. 
Dust  lay  gray  upon  them  and  spattered  mud  overlaid 
the  dust. 

"We've  done  come  ter  a  pass,  now,"  declared  the 
sheriff,  "where  hit  ain't  goin'  ter  profit  us  no  longer 
ter  go  trailin'  in  one  bunch.  We  hev  need  ter  split 
up  an'  turkey  tail  out  along  different  routes." 

The  sun  had  long  crossed  the  meridian  and  dyed  the 
steep  horizon  with  burning  orange  and  violet  when 
Bud  Grant  and  Mose  Biggerstaff,  with  whom  he  had 
been  paired  off,  drew  rein  to  let  their  horses  blow  in 
a  gorge  between  beetling  walls  of  cliff. 

"Me,  I  ain't  got  no  master  relish  for  this  task,  no- 
how," declared  Mose  morosely  as  he  spat  at  the  black 
loam  of  rotting  leaves.  "No  man  ain't  jedgmatically 
proved  ter  me,  yit,  thet  ther  feller  Sam  kilt  didn't  need 
killin'." 

Bud  nodded  a  solemn  concurrence  in  the  sentiment. 
Then  abruptly  the  two  of  them  started  as  though  at 
the  intrusion  of  a  ghost  and,  of  instinct,  their  hands 
swept  holsterward,  but  stopped  halfway. 

This  sudden  galvanizing  of  their  apathy  into  life 
was  effected  by  the  sight  of  a  figure  which  had  mate- 
rialized without  warning  and  in  uncanny  silence  in  a 
fissure  where  the  rocks  dripped  from  reeking  moss 
on  either  side. 

It  stood  with  a  cocked  repeating  rifle  held  easily  at 
the  ready,  and  it  was  a  figure  that  required  no  herald- 
ing of  its  identity  or  menace. 

"Were   ye  lookin'    fer  me,   boys?"   drawled   Sam 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      59 

Mosebury  with  a  palpable  enjoyment  of  the  situation, 
not  unlike  that  which  brightens  the  eyes  of  a  cat  as  it 
plays  with  a  mouse  already  crippled. 

With  swift  apprehension  the  eyes  of  the  two  depu- 
ties met  and  effected  an  understanding.  Mose  Bigger- 
staff  licked  his  bearded  lips  until  their  stiffness  re- 
laxed enough  for  speech. 

"Me  an'  Sim  Colby  hyar,"  he  protested,  "got  sum- 
moned by  ther  high  sheriff.  We  didn't  hev  no  rather 
erbout  hit  one  way  ner  t'other.  All  we've  got  ter  go 
on  air  ther  J^scription  thet  war  give  ter  us — an'  we 
don't  see  no  resemblance  atween  ye  an'  ther  feller 
we're  atter." 

The  murderer  stood  eying  them  with  an  amused 
contempt,  and  one  could  recognize  the  qualities  of 
dominance  which,  despite  his  infamies,  had  won  him 
both  fear  and  admiration. 

"Ef  ye  thinks  ye'd  ought  ter  take  me  along  an'  show 
me  ter  yore  high  sheriff,"  he  suggested,  and  the  finger 
toyed  with  the  trigger,  "I'm  right  hyar." 

"Afore  God,  no!"  It  was  Bud  who  spoke  now 
contradicting  his  colleague.  "I've  seed  Sam  Mose- 
bury often  times — an'  ye  don't  no  fashion  faver  him." 

Sam  laughed.  "I've  seed  ye  afore,  too,  I  reckon," 
he  commented  dryly.  "But  ef  ye  don't  know  me,  I 
reckon  I  don't  need  ter  know  you,  nuther." 

The  two  sat  atremble  in  their  saddles  until  the  ap- 
parition had  disappeared  in  the  laurel. 

Gray-templed  and  seamed  of  face,  Dyke  Cappeze 
entered  the  courthouse  at  Carnettsville  one  day  a  few 
months  later  and  paused  for  a  moment,  his  battered 
law  books  under  his  threadbare  elbow,  to  gaze  around 


60      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

the  murky  hall  of  which  his  memory  needed  no  re- 
freshing. 

About  the  stained  walls  hung  fly-specked  notices  of 
sheriff's  sales,  and  between  them  stamped  long-haired, 
lean-visaged  men  drawn  in  by  litigation  or  jury  serv- 
ice from  branchwater  and  remote  valley. 

Out  where  the  sun  lay  mellow  on  the  town  square 
was  the  brick  pavement,  on  which  Cappeze's  law  part- 
ner had  fallen  dead  ten  years  ago,  because  he  dared 
to  prosecute  too  vigorously.  Across  the  way  stood 
the  general  store  upon  which  one  could  still  see  the 
pock-marking  of  bullets  reminiscent  of  that  day  when 
the  Heatons  and  the  Blacks  made  war,  and  terrorized 
the  county  seat. 

Dyke  Cappeze  looked  over  it  all  with  a  deep  melan- 
choly in  his  eyes.  He  knew  his  mountains  and  loved 
his  people  whose  virtues  were  more  numerous,  if  less 
conspicuous,  than  their  sins.  In  his  lieart  burned  a 
militant  insurgency.  These  hills  cried  out  for  devel- 
opment, and  development  demanded  a  conception  of 
law  broader  gauged  and  more  serious  than  obtained. 
It  needed  fearless  courts,  unterrified  juries,  intrepid 
lawyers. 

He  had  been  such  a  lawyer,  and  when  he  had  ap- 
plied for  life  insurance  he  had  been  adjudged  a  pro- 
hibitive risk.  To-day  the  career  of  three  decades  was 
to  end,  and  as  the  bell  in  the  teetering  cupola  began  to 
clang  its  summons  he  shook  his  head — and  pressed 
tight  the  straight  lips  that  slashed  his  rugged  face. 

On  the  bench  sat  the  circuit-riding  judge  of  that 
district ;  a  man  to  whom,  save  when  he  addressed  him 
as  "your  honor,"  Dyke  Cappeze  had  not  spoken  in 
three  years.  They  were  implacable  enemies,  because 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      61 

too  often  the  lawyer  had  complained  that  justice 
waited  here  on  expediency. 

Cappeze  looked  at  the  windows  bleared  with  their 
residue  of  dust  and  out  through  them  at  the  hills 
mantling  to  an  autumnal  glory.  Then  he  heard  that 
suave — to  himself  he  said  hypocritical — voice  from 
the  bench. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  bar,  any  motions?" 

Wearily  the  thin,  tall-framed  lawyer  came  to  his 
feet  and  stood  erect  and  silent  for  a  moment  in  his 
long,  black  coat,  corroding  into  the  green  of  dilapida- 
tion. 

"May  it  please  your  honor,"  he  grimly  declared.  "I 
hardly  know  whether  my  statement  may  be  properly 
called  a  motion  or  not.  It's  more  a  valedictory." 

He  drew  from  his  breast  pocket  a  bit  of  coarse, 
lined  writing  paper  and  waved  it  in  his  talonlike  hand. 

"I  was  retained  by  the  widow  Sales,  whose  husband 
was  shot  down  by  Sam  Mosebury,  to  assist  the  prose- 
cution in  bringing  the  assassin  to  punishment.  The 
grand  jury  has  failed  to  indict  this  defendant.  The 
sheriff  has  failed  to  arrest  him.  The  court  has  failed 
to  produce  those  witnesses  whom  I  have  subpoenaed. 
The  machinery  of  the  law  which  is  created  for  the 
sole  purpose  of  protecting  the  weak  against  the  en- 
croachments of  the  malevolent  has  failed." 

He  paused,  and  through  the  crowded  room  the 
shuffling  feet  fell  silent  and  heads  bent  excitedly  for- 
ward. Then  Cappeze  lifted  the  paper  in  his  hand  and 
went  on: 

"I  hold  here  an  unsigned  letter  that  threatens  me 
with  death  if  I  persist  with  this  prosecution.  It  came 
to  me  two  weeks  ago,  and  since  receiving  it  I  have  re- 


62      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

doubled  my  energy.  When  this  grand  jury  was  im- 
paneled and  charged,  such  a  note  also  reached  each 
of  its  members.  I  know  not  what  temper  of  soul 
actuates  those  men  who  have  sworn  to  perform  the 
duties  of  grand  jurors.  I  know  not  whether  these 
threats  have  affected  their  deliberations,  but  I  know 
that  they  have  failed  to  return  a  true  bill  against  Sam 
Mosebury !" 

The  judge  fingering  his  gavel  frowned  gravely. 
"Does  counsel  mean  to  charge  that  the  court  has 
proven  lax?" 

"I  mean  to  say,"  declared  the  lawyer  in  a  voice  that 
suddenly  mounted  and  rung  like  a  trumpeted  chal- 
lenge, "that  in  these  hills  of  Kentucky  the  militant 
spirit  of  the  law  seems  paralyzed !  I  mean  to  say  that 
terrorism  towers  higher  than  the  people's  safeguards ! 
For  a  lifetime  I  have  battled  here  to  put  the  law  above 
the  feud — and  I  have  failed.  In  this  courthouse  my 
partner  fought  for  a  recognition  of  justice  and  at  its 
door  he  paid  the  penalty  with  his  life.  I  wish  to  make 
no  charges  other  than  to  state  the  facts.  I  am  grow- 
ing old,  and  I  have  lost  heart  in  a  vain  fight.  I  wish 
to  withdraw  from  this  case  as  associate  common- 
wealth counsel,  because  I  can  do  nothing  more  than 
I  have  done,  and  that  is  enough.  I  wish  to  state  pub- 
licly that  to-day  I  shall  take  down  my  shingle  and 
withdraw  from  the  practice  of  law,  because  law 
among  us  seems  to  me  a  misnomer  and  a  futile  sem- 
blance." 

In  a  dead  silence  the  elderly  attorney  came  to  his 
period  and  gathered  up  again  under  his  threadbare 
elbow  his  two  or  three  battered  books.  Turning,  he 
walked  down  the  center  aisle  toward  the  door,  and 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      63 

as  he  went  his  head  sagged  dejectedly  forward  on  his 
chest. 

He  heard  the  instruction  of  his  enemy  on  the  bench, 
still  suave: 

"Mr.  Clerk,  let  the  order  be  entered  striking  the 
name  of  Mr.  Cappeze  from  the  record  as  associate 
counsel  for  the  commonwealth." 

It  was  early  forenoon  when  the  elderly  attorney 
left  the  dingy  law  office  which  he  was  closing,  and  the 
sunset  fires  were  dying  when  he  swung  himself  down 
from  the  saddle  at  his  own  stile  in  the  hills  and  walked 
between  the  bee-gums  and  bird  boxes  to  his  door. 
But  before  he  reached  it  the  stern  pain  in  his  eyes 
yielded  to  a  brightening  thought,  and  as  if  responsive 
to  that  thought  the  door  swung  open  and  in  it  stood 
a  slim  girl  with  eyes  violet  deep,  and  a  beauty  so  allur- 
ing and  so  wildly  natural  that  her  father  felt  as  if 
youth  had  met  him  again,  when  he  had  begun  to  think 
of  all  life  as  musty  and  decrepit  with  age. 


CHAPTER  VI 

EXCEPT  in  that  narrow  circle  of  American  life 
which  follows  the  doings  and  interests  of  the 
army  and  navy,  the  world  had  forgotten,  in  the 
several  years  since  its  happening,  the  court  martial 
and  disgrace  of  John  Spurrier — but  Spurrier  himself 
had  not  been  able  to  forget. 

His  name  had  become  forcefully  identified  with 
other  things  and,  in  the  employ  of  Snowdon's  com- 
pany, he  had  been  into  those  parts  of  the  world  which 
call  to  a  man  of  energy  and  constructive  ability  of 
major  calibre.  But  the  joy  of  seeing  mine  fields  open 
to  the  rush  where  there  had  been  only  desert  before: 
of  seeing  chasms  bridged  into  roadways  had  not  been 
enough  to  banish  the  brooding  which  sprung  from 
the  old  stigma.  In  remote  places  he  had  encountered 
occasional  army  men  to  remind  him  that  he  was  no 
longer  one  of  them  and,  though  he  was  often  doing 
worthier  things  than  they,  they  were  bound  by  regu- 
lations which  branded  him. 

So  Spurrier  had  hardened,  not  into  outward  crusti- 
ness of  admitted  chagrin,  but  with  an  inner  congealing 
of  spirit  which  made  him  look  on  life  as  a  somewhat 
merciless  fight  and  what  he  could  wrest  from  life  as 
the  booty  of  conquest. 

One  day,  in  Snowdon's  office  after  a  more  than  usu- 
ally difficult  task  had  reached  accomplishment,  the 

64 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      65 

chief  candidly  proclaimed  justification  for  his  first 
estimate  of  his  aide,  and  Spurrier  smiled. 

"It's  generous  of  you  to  speak  so,  sir,"  he  said 
slowly,  "and  I'm  glad  to  leave  you  with  that  impres- 
sion— because  with  many  regrets  I  am  leaving  you." 

The  older  man  raised  his  brows  in  surprise. 

"I  had  hoped  our  association  would  be  permanent," 
he  responded.  "I  suppose,  though,  you  have  an  open- 
ing to  a  broader  horizon.  If  so  it  comes  as  recogni- 
tion well  earned." 

"It's  an  offer  from  Martin  Harrison,  sir,"  came  the 
reply  in  slowly  weighed  words.  "There  are  objec- 
tions, of  course,  but  the  man  who  gains  Harrison's 
confidence  stands  in  the  temple  of  big  money." 

"Yes.  Of  course  Harrison's  name  needs  no  ampli- 
fication." The  man  who  had  opened  a  door  for 
Spurrier  in  what  had  seemed  a  blank  wall,  sat  for  a 
moment  silent  then  broke  out  with  more  than  his 
customary  emphasis  of  expression.  "Objection  from 
me  may  seem  self-interested  because  I  am  losing  a 
valuable  assistant.  But — damn  it  all,  Harrison  is  a 
pirate !" 

Spurrier's  tanned  cheeks  flushed  a  shade  darker  but 
he  nodded  his  head.  His  fine  eyes  took  on  that  glint 
of  hardness  which,  in  former  times,  had  never  marred 
their  engaging  candor. 

"I'd  like  to  have  you  understand  me,  sir.  I  owe 
you  that  much  and  a  great  deal  more.  I  know  that 
Harrison  and  his  ilk  of  big  money  operators  are  none 
too  scrupulous — but  they  have  power  and  opportunity 
and  those  are  things  I  must  gain." 

"I  had  supposed,"  suggested  Snowdon  deliberately, 
"that  you  wanted  two  things  above  all  else.  First  to 


66      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

establish  your  innocence  to  the  world,  and  secondly, 
even  if  you  failed  in  that,  to  make  your  name  so  sub- 
stantially respected  that  you  could  bear — the  other." 

"Until  recently  I  had  no  other  thought."  The 
young  man  rose  and  stood  with  his  fine  body  erect  and 
as  full  of  disciplined  strength  as  that  of  a  Praxiteles 
athlete.  Then  he  took  several  restless  turns  across 
the  floor  and  halted  tensely  before  his  benefactor. 

"I  have  let  no  grass  grow  under  my  feet.  You 
know  how  I  have  run  down  every  conceivable  clue  and 
how  I  stand  as  uncleared  as  the  day  the  verdict  was 
brought  at  Manila.  I've  begun  to  despair  of  vindica- 
tion ...  I  am  not  by  nature  a  beast  of  prey  ...  I 
prefer  fair  play  and  the  courtesies  of  sportsmanlike 
conflict." 

He  paused,  then  went  forward  again  in  a  hardening 
voice:  "But  in  this  land  of  ours  there  are  two  aris- 
tocracies and  only  two — and  I  want  to  be  an  aristocrat 
of  sorts." 

"I  didn't  realize  we  had  even  so  much  variety  as 
that,"  observed  Snowdon  and  the  younger  man  con- 
tinued. 

"The  real  aristocracy  is  that  of  gentle  blood  and 
ideals.  Our  little  army  is  its  true  nucleus  and  therfe  a 
man  doesn't  have  to  be  rich.  I  was  born  to  that  and 
reared  to  it  as  to  a  deep  religion — but  I've  been  cast 
out,  unfrocked,  cashiered.  I  can't  go  back.  One 
class  is  still  open  to  me;  the  brazen,  arrogant  circles 
of  wealth  into  which  a  double-fisted  achiever  can 
bruise  his  way.  I  don't  love  them.  I  don't  revere 
them,  but  they  offer  power  and  I  mean  to  take  my  place 
on  their  tawdry  eminence.  It's  all  that's  left." 

"I'm  not  preaching  humility,"  persisted  Snowdon 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      67 

quietly.  "I  started  you  along  the  paths  of  financial 
combat  and  I  see  no  fault  in  your  continuing,  but  may 
I  be  candid  to  the  point  of  bluntness?" 

He  paused  for  permission  and  Spurrier  prompted: 
"Yes,  please  go  on." 

"Then,"  finished  Snowdon,  "since  you've  been  with 
me  I've  watched  you  grow — and  you  have  grown. 
But  I've  also  seen  a  fine  chivalric  sense  gradually 
blunting;  a  generous  predisposition  hardening  out  of 
flexibility  into  something  more  implacable,  less  gra- 
cious. It's  a  pity — and  Martin  Harrison  won't  soften 
you." 

For  a  while  Spurrier  stood  meditatively  silent,  then 
he  smiled  and  once  more  nodded  his  head. 

"There  isn't  a  thing  you've  said  that  isn't  true,  Mr. 
Snowdon,  and  you're  the  one  man  who  could  say  it 
without  any  touch  of  offensiveness.  I've  counted  the 
costs.  God  knows  if  I  could  go  back  to  the  army  to- 
morrow with  a  shriven  record,  I'd  rather  have  my 
lieutenant's  pay  than  all  the  success  that  could  ever 
come  from  moneyed  buccaneers !  But  I  can't  do  that. 
I  can't  think  of  myself  as  a  fighting  man  under  my 
own  flag  whose  largest  pay  is  his  contentment  and  his 
honor.  Very  well,  I  have  accepted  Hobson's  choice. 
I  will  join  that  group  which  fights  with  power,  for 
power;  the  group  that's  strong  enough  to  defy  the 
approval  they  can't  successfully  court.  I  have  hard- 
ened but  I've  needed  to.  I  hope  I  shan't  become  so 
flagrant,  however,  that  you'll  have  to  regret  sponsor- 
ing me." 

Snowdon  laughed. 

"I'm  not  afraid  of  that,"  he  made  hasty  assurance. 
"And  my  friendliest  wishes  go  with  you." 


68      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Since  that  day  John  Spurrier  had  come  to  a  place 
of  confidence  in  the  counsels  over  which  Harrison 
presided  with  despotic  authority. 

The  man  in  the  street,  deriving  his  information 
from  news  print,  would  have  accorded  Martin  Harri- 
son a  place  on  the  steering  committee  of  the  country's 
wealth  and  affairs,  and  in  such  a  classification  he 
would  have  been  both  right  and  wrong. 

There  were  exclusive  coteries  of  money  manipula- 
tion to  which  Harrison  was  denied  an  entree.  These 
combinations  were  few  but  mighty,  and  until  he  won 
the  sesame  of  admission  to  their  supreme  circle  his 
ambition  must  chafe,  unsatisfied:  his  power,  greater 
than  that  of  many  kings,  must  seem  to  himself  too 
weak. 

It  must  not  be  inferred  that  Harrison  was  embit- 
tered by  the  wormwood  of  failure.  His  trophies  of 
success  were  numerous  and  tangible  enough  for  every 
purpose  except  his  own  contentment. 

To-night  he  was  smiling  with  baronial  graciousness 
while  he  stood  welcoming  a  group  of  dinner  guests  in 
his  own  house,  and  as  his  butler  passed  the  tray  of 
canapes  and  cocktail  glasses  the  latest  arrival  pre- 
sented himself. 

The  host  nodded.  "Spurrier,"  he  said,  "I  think  you 
know  every  one  here,  don't  you?" 

The  young  man  who  had  just  come  was  perfectly 
tailored  and  self-confident  of  bearing,  and  as  vigorous 
of  bodily  strength  as  a  wrestler  in  training.  The  time 
that  had  passed  over  him  since  he  had  left  Snowdon's 
company  for  wider  and  more  independent  fields  had 
wrought  changes  in  him,  and  in  so  far  as  the  observer 
could  estimate  values  from  the  externals  of  life,  every 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      69 

development  had  been  upward  toward  improvement. 
Yet,  between  the  man's  impressive  surface  and  his  soul 
lay  an  acquired  coat  of  cynicism  and  a  shell  of  culti- 
vated selfishness. 

John  Spurrier,  who  had  renounced  the  gaming 
table,  was  more  passionately  and  coldly  than  ever  the 
plunger,  dedicated  to  the  single  religion  of  ambition. 
He  had  failed  to  remove  the  blot  of  the  court-martial 
from  his  name,  and,  denied  the  soldier's  ethical  place, 
he  had  become  a  sort  of  moss-trooper  of  finance. 

Backed  only  by  his  personal  qualifications,  he  had 
won  his  way  into  a  circle  of  active  wealth,  and  though 
he  seemed  no  more  a  stranger  there  than  a  duckling 
in  a  pool,  he  himself  knew  that  another  simile  would 
more  truly  describe  his  status. 

He  was  like  an  exhibition  skater  whose  eye-filling 
feats  are  watched  with  admiration  and  bated  breath. 
His  evolutions  and  dizzy  pirouettings  were  performed 
with  an  adroit  ease  and  grace,  but  he  could  feel  the 
swaying  of  the  thin  ice  under  him  and  could  never 
forget  that  only  the  swift  smoothness  of  his  flight 
stood  between  himself  and  disaster. 

He  must  live  on  a  lavish  scale  or  lose  step  with  the 
fast-moving  procession.  He  must  maintain  appear- 
ances in  keeping  with  his  associations — or  drop  down- 
scale  to  meaner  opportunities  and  paltrier  prizes.  The 
wealth  which  would  establish  him  firmly  seemed  al- 
ways just  a  shade  farther  away  than  the  reach  of  his 
outstretched  grasp. 

"We  were  just  talking  about  Trabue,  Spurrier," 
his  host  enlightened  him  as  he  looked  across  the  rim 
of  his  lifted  glass,  with  eyes  hardening  at  the  men- 
tion of  that  name. 


70      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Spurrier  did  not  ask  what  had  been  said  about  Tra- 
bue,  but  he  guessed  that  it  savored  of  anathema.  For 
Trabue,  whose  name  rarely  appeared  in  the  public  an- 
nouncements of  American  Oil  and  Gas,  was  none  the 
less  the  white-hot  power  and  genius  of  that  organiza- 
tion— its  unheralded  chief  of  staff.  Just  as  A.  O. 
and  G.  dominated  the  world  of  finance,  so  he  domi- 
nated A.  O.  and  G. 

Harrison  laughed.  "I'm  not  a  vindictive  man,"  he 
declared  in  humorous  self-defense,  "but  I  want  his 
scalp  as  Salome  wanted  the  head  of  John  the  Baptist." 

The  newly  arrived  guest  smiled  quietly. 

"That's  a  large  order,  Mr.  Harrison,"  he  sug- 
gested, "and  yet  it's  in  line  with  a  matter  I  want  to 
take  up  with  you.  My  conspiracy  won't  exactly  sepa- 
rate O.  H.  Trabue  from  his  scalp  lock,  but  it  may  pull 
some  pet  feathers  out  of  his  war  bonnet.  I'm  leav- 
ing to-morrow  on  a  mission  of  reconnaisance — and 
when  I  come  back " 

The  eyes  of  the  elder  and  younger  engaged  with  a 
quiet  interchange  of  understanding,  and  Spurrier 
knew  that  into  Martin's  mind,  as  crowded  with  ac- 
tivities as  a  busy  harbor,  an  idea  had  fallen  which 
would  grow  into  interest. 

When  dinner  was  announced,  the  adventurer  de 
luxe — for  it  was  so  that  he  recognized  himself  in  the 
confessional  of  his  own  mind — took  in  the  daughter 
of  his  host,  and  this  mark  of  distinction  did  not  escape 
the  notice  of  several  men. 

Spurrier  himself  was  gravely  listening  to  some  low- 
voiced  aside  from  the  girl  who  nibbled  at  an  olive,  and 
who  merited  his  attention. 

She  was  tall  and  undeniably  handsome,  and  if  her 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      71 

mentality  sparkled  with  a  cool  and  brilliant  light  rather 
than  a  warm  and  appealing  glow,  that  was  because  she 
had  inherited  the  pattern  of  her  father's  mind. 

If,  notwithstanding  her  wealth  and  position,  she 
was  still  unmarried  three  seasons  after  her  coming- 
out,  it  was  her  own  affair  and  possibly  his  good  for- 
tune. For  when  the  Jack  Spurrier  of  these  days  con- 
templated marriage  at  all,  he  thought  of  it  as  an  aid  to 
his  career  rather  than  a  sentimental  adventure. 

"I'm  leaving  in  the  morning,"  he  was  saying  in  a 
low  voice,  "for  the  Kentucky  Cumberlands,  where  I'm 
told  life  hasn't  changed  much  since  the  pioneers 
crossed  over  their  divide.  It's  the  Land  of  Do- 
Without." 

"The  Land  of  Do-Without?"  she  repeated  after  him. 
"It's  an  expressive  phrase,  Jack.  Is  it  your  own  or 
should  there  be  quotation  marks?" 

Spurrier  laughed  as  he  admitted:  "I  claim  no  credit; 
I  merely  quote,  but  the  land  down  there  in  the  steeps 
is  one,  from  all  I  hear,  to  stir  the  imagination  into 
terms  more  or  less  poetic." 

He  leaned  forward  a  little  and  his  engaging  face 
mirrored  his  own  interest  so  that  the  girl  found  her- 
self murmuring:  "Tell  me  something  about  it,  then." 

"It  is,"  he  assured  her,  "a  stretch  of  unaltered 
medisevalism  entirely  surrounded  by  modernity — yet 
holding  aloof.  Though  the  country  has  spread  to  the 
Pacific  and  it  lies  within  three  hundred  miles  of  At- 
lantic tidewater,  it  is  still  our  one  frontier  where 
pioneers  live  under  the  conditions  that  obtained  in  the 
days  of  the  Indian." 

"That  seems  difficult  to  grasp,"  she  demurred,  and 


72      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

he  nodded  his  head,  abstractedly  sketching  lines  on  the 
damask  cloth  with  his  oyster  fork. 

"When  the  nation  was  born,"  he  enlightened,  "and 
the  questing  spirit  of  the  overland  voyagers  asserted 
itself,  the  bulk  of  its  human  tide  flowed  west  along 
the  Wilderness  Road.  Through  Cumberland  Gap  lay 
their  one  discovered  gate  in  the  wall  that  nature  had 
built  to  the  sky  across  their  path.  It  was  a  wall  more 
ancient  than  that  of  the  Alps  and  between  the  ridges 
many  of  them  were  stranded." 

"How?"  she  demanded,  arrested  by  the  vibrant  in- 
terest of  his  own  voice,  and  he  continued  with  a 
shrug  of  the  shoulder. 

"Many  reasons.  A  pack  mule  fallen  lame — a 
broken  wagon- wheel ;  small  things  were  enough  in  such 
times  of  hardship  to  make  a  family  settle  where  it 
found  itself  balked.  The  more  fortunate  won  through 
to  'take  the  west  with  the  axe  and  hold  it  with  the 
rifle.'  Then  came  railroads  and  steamboats,  going 
other  ways,  and  the  ridges  were  swallowed  again  by 
the  wilderness.  The  stranded  brethren  remained 
stranded  and  they  did  not  alter  or  progress.  They 
remained  self-willed,  fiercely  independent  and  dedi- 
cated to  the  creed  'Leave  us  alone.'  Their  life  to-day 
is  the  life  of  two  centuries  ago." 

The  girl  lifted  the  brows  that  were  dark  enough 
to  require  no  penciling. 

"That  was  the  speech  of  a  dreamer  and  a  poet,  Jack, 
and  I  thought  you  the  most  practical  of  men.  What 
calls  you  into  a  land  of  poverty?  I  didn't  know  you 
ever  ran  on  cold  trails."  She  spoke  with  a  delicately 
shaded  irony,  as  though  for  the  materialism  of  his  own 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      73 

viewpoint,  yet  he  knew  that  her  interest  in  him  would 
survive  no  failure  of  worldly  attainment. 

He  did  not  repeat  to  her  the  story  told  him  so  long 
ago  by  Snowdon,  the  engineer,  nor  confide  to  her  that 
ever  since  then  his  mind  had  harked  back  insistently 
to  that  topic  and  its  possibilities.  Now  he  only  smiled 
with  diplomatic  suavity. 

"Pearls,"  he  said,  "don't  feed  oysters  into  robust- 
ness. They  make  'em  most  uncomfortable.  The 
poverty-stricken  illiterates  in  these  hills,  where  I'm 
going,  might  starve  for  centuries  over  buried  treas- 
ure— which  some  one  else  might  find." 

The  girl  nodded. 

"In  the  stories,"  she  answered,  though  she  did  not 
seem  disturbed  at  the  thought,  "the  stranger  in  the 
Curnberlands  always  arouses  the  ire  of  some  whiskered 
moonshiner  and  falls  in  a  creek  bed  pierced  by  a 
shot  from  the  laurel." 

Spurrier  grinned. 

"Or  he  falls  in  love  with  a  barefoot  Diana  and 
teaches  her  to  adore  him  in  return." 

Miss  Harrison  made  a  satirical  little  grimace.  "At 
least  teach  her  to  eat  with  a  fork,  too,  Jack,"  she 
begged  him.  "It  will  contribute  to  your  fastidious 
comfort  when  you  come  back  here  to  sell  your  pearls 
at  Tiffany's  or  in  Maiden  Lane,  or  wherever  it  is  that 
one  wholesales  his  treasure-trove." 

If  John  Spurrier  had  presented  the  picture  of  a 
man  to  the  manner  born  as  he  sat  with  Martin  Har- 
rison's daughter  at  Martin  Harrison's  table,  he  fitted 
into  the  ensemble,  too,  a  week  later,  as  he  crossed  the 
hard-tramped  dirt  of  the  street  from  the  railway  sta- 


V4      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

tion  at  Waterfall  and  entered  the  shabby  tavern 
over  the  way — for  the  opportunity  hound  must  be 
adaptable. 

Here  he  would  leave  the  end  of  the  rails  and  travel 
by  mule  into  a  wilder  country,  for  on  the  geological 
survey  maps  that  he  carried  with  him  he  had  made 
tracings  of  underground  currents  which  it  had  not 
been  easy  to  procure. 

These  red-inkings  were  exact  miniatures  of  a  huge 
wall  chart  in  the  headquarters  of  American  Oil  and 
Gas,  and  to  others  than  a  trusted  few  they  were  not 
readily  accessible.  How  Spurrier  had  achieved  his 
purpose  is  a  separate  story  and  one  over  which  he 
smiled  inwardly,  though  it  may  have  involved  fea- 
tures that  were  not  nicely  ethical. 

The  tavern  had  been  built  in  the  days  when  Water- 
fall had  attracted  men  answering  the  challenge  of  oil 
discovery.  Now  it  had  fallen  wretchedly  into  decay, 
and  over  it  brooded  the  depression  of  hopes  and 
dreams  long  dead.  Gladly  Spurrier  had  left  that  town 
behind  him. 

Now,  on  a  crisp  afternoon,  when  the  hill  slopes  were 
all  garbed  in  the  rugged  splendor  of  the  autumn's 
high  color,  he  was  tramping  with  a  shotgun  on  his 
elbow  and  a  borrowed  dog  at  his  heels.  He  had 
crossed  Hemlock  Mountain  and  struck  into  the  hinter- 
land at  its  back. 

Until  now  he  had  thought  of  Hemlock  Mountain 
as  a  single  peak,  but  he  had  discovered  it  to  be,  in- 
stead, an  unbroken  range  beginning  at  Hell's  Door  and 
ending  at  Praise  the  Lord,  which  zigzagged  for 
a  hundred  miles  and  arched  its  bristling  backbone 
two  thousand  feet  into  the  sky.  Along  this  entire 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      75 

length  it  offered  only  a  few  passes  over  which  a 
traveler  could  cross  except  on  foot  or  horseback. 

He  had  found  entertainment  overnight  at  a  clay- 
chinked  log-cabin,  where  he  had  shared  the  single 
room  with  six  human  beings  and  two  dogs.  This 
census  takes  no  account  of  a  razor-back  pig  which 
was  segregated  in  a  box  under  the  dining  table,  where 
its  feeding  with  scraps  simplified  the  problem  of 
stock  raising. 

His  present  objective  was  the  house  of  Dyke  Cap- 
peze,  the  retired  lawyer,  whose  name  had  drifted  into 
talk  at  every  town  in  which  he  had  stopped  along  the 
railroad. 

Cappeze  was  a  "queer  fellow,"  a  recluse  who  had 
quit  the  villages  and  drawn  far  back  into  the  hills 
themselves.  He  was  one  who  could  neither  win  nor 
stop  fighting;  who  wanted  to  change  the  unalterable, 
and,  having  failed,  sulked  like  Achilles  in  his  tent. 
But  whoever  spoke  of  Cappeze  credited  him  with  being 
a  positive  and  unique  personality,  and  Spurrier  meant 
to  know  him. 

So  he  pretended  to  hunt  quail — in  a  country  where 
a  covey  rose  and  scattered  beyond  gorges  over  which 
neither  dog  nor  man  could  follow.  One  excuse  served 
as  well  as  another  so  long  as  he  seemed  sufficiently 
careless  of  the  things  which  were  really  the  core  and 
center  of  his  interest.  And  now  Cappeze's  place  ought 
to  be  near  by. 

Off  to  one  side  of  the  ragged  way  stretched  a  brown 
patch  of  stubble,  and  suddenly  the  dog  stopped  at  its 
edge,  lifted  his  muzzle  with  distended  nostrils  delicately 
aquiver,  and  then  went  streaking  away  into  the  rat- 
tling weed  stalks,  eagerly  quartering  the  bare  field. 


76      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Spurrier  followed,  growling  skeptically  to  himself: 
"He's  made  a  stand  on  a  rabbit.  That  dog's  a  liar  and 
the  truth  is  not  in  him!" 

But  the  setter  had  come  to  a  halt  and  held  motion- 
less, his  statuesque  pose  with  one  foreleg  uplifted  as 
rigid  as  a  piece  of  bronze  save  for  the  black  muzzle 
sensitively  alert  and  tremulous. 

Then  as  the  man  walked  in  there  came  that  startling 
little  thunder  of  whirring  wings  with  which  quail 
break  cover. 

The  ground  seemed  to  burst  with  a  tiny  drumming 
eruption  of  up-surging  feathery  shapes,  and  Spurrier's 
gun  spoke  rapidly  from  both  barrels.  Save  for  the 
two  he  had  downed,  the  covey  crossed  a  little  rise 
beyond  a  thicket  of  blackberry  brier  where  he  marked 
them  by  the  tips  of  a  few  gnarled  trees,  and  the  man 
nodded  his  head  in  satisfaction  as  the  dog  he  had 
libeled  neatly  retrieved  his  dead  birds  and  cast  off 
again  toward  the  hummock's  ridge. 

Spurrier,  following  more  slowly,  lost  sight  of  his 
setter  and,  before  he  had  caught  up,  he  heard  a 
whimpering  of  fright  and  pain.  Puzzled,  he  hastened 
forward  until  from  a  slight  elevation,  which  com- 
manded a  burial  ground,  choked  with  a  tangle  of 
brambles  and  twisted  fox  grapes,  he  found  himself 
looking  on  a  picture  for  which  he  was  entirely  un- 
prepared. 

His  dog  was  crouching  and  crawling  in  supplica- 
tion, while  above  him,  with  eyes  that  snapped  light- 
ning jets  of  fury,  stood  a  slender  girl  with  a  hickory 
switch  tightly  clenched  in  a  small  but  merciless  hand. 

As  the  gunner  came  into  sight  she  stood  her  ground, 
a  little  startled  but  obdurately  determined,  and  her 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      77 

expression  appeared  to  transfer  her  anger  from  the 
animal  she  had  whipped  to  the  master,  until  he  almost 
wondered  whether  she  might  not  likewise  use  the 
hickory  upon  him. 

He  tried  not  to  let  the  vivid  and  unexpected  beauty 
of  the  apparition  cloud  his  just  indignation,  and  his 
voice  was  stern  with  offended  dignity  as  he  demanded : 

"Would  you  mind  telling  me  why  you're  mistreat- 
ing my  dog?  He's  the  gentlest  beast  I  ever  knew/' 

The  girl  was  straight  and  slim  and  as  colorful  as 
the  landscape  which  the  autumn  had  painted  with 
crimson  and  violet,  but  in  her  eyes  flamed  a  war  fire. 

"What's  that  a-bulgin'  out  yore  coat  pocket,  thar?" 
she  demanded  breathlessly.  "You  an'  yore  dog  air 
both  murderers !  Ye've  been  shootin'  into  my  gang  of 
pet  pa'tridges." 

"Pet — partridges?"  He  repeated  the  words  in  a 
mystified  manner,  as  under  the  compulsion  of  her 
gaze  he  drew  out  the  incriminating  bodies  of  the 
lifeless  victims. 

The  girl  snatched  the  dead  birds  from  him  and  laid 
their  soft  breasts  against  her  cheek,  crooning  sorrow- 
fully over  them. 

"They  trusted  me  ter  hold  'em  safe,"  she  declared  in 
a  grief -stricken  tone.  "I'd  kept  all  the  gunners  from 
harmin'  'em — an*  now  they've  done  been  betrayed — 
an'  murdered." 

"I'm  sorry,"  declared  Spurrier  humbly.  "I  didn't 
know  they  were  pets.  They  behaved  very  much  like 
wild  birds." 

The  dog  rose  from  his  cowering  position  and  came 
over  to  shelter  himself  behind  Spurrier,  who  just  then 
heard  the  underbrush  stir  at  his  back  and  wheeled  to 


78      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

find  himself  facing  an  elderly  man  with  a  ruggedly 
chiseled  face  and  a  mane  of  gray  hair.  It  was  a  face 
that  one  could  not  see  without  feeling  a  spirit  force 
behind  it,  and  when  the  man  spoke  his  sonorous  voice, 
too,  carried  a  quality  of  impressiveness. 

'"He  didn't  have  no  way  of  knowin',  Glory,"  he  said 
placatingly  to  the  girl.  "Bob  Whites  are  mostly  wild, 
you  know."  Then  turning  back  to  the  man  again  he 
courteously  explained:  "She  fed  this  gang  through 
last  winter  when  the  snows  were  heavy.  They'd  come 
up  to  the  door  yard  an'  peck  'round  with  the  chickens. 
She's  gifted  with  the  knack  of  gentlin'  wild  things." 
He  paused,  then  added  with  a  grim  touch  of  irony. 
"It's  a  lesson  that  it  would  have  profited  me  to  learn 
— but  I  never  could  master  it.  You're  a  furriner  here- 
abouts, ain't  you?" 

"My  name  is  John  Spurrier,"  said  the  stranger.  "I 
was  looking  for  Dyke  Cappeze." 

"I'm  Dyke  Cappeze,"  said  the  elderly  man,  "an'  this 
is  my  daughter,  Glory.  Come  inside.  Yore  welcome 
needs  some  mendin',  I  reckon." 


CHAPTER  VII 

A  John  Spurrier  followed  his  host  between  rhodo- 
dendron thickets  that  rose  above  their  heads, 
he  found  himself  wondering  what  had  become 
of  the  girl,  but  when  they  drew  near  to  an  old  house 
whose  stamp  of  orderly  neatness  proclaimed  its  con- 
trast  to   the   scattering  hovels   of   widely   separated 
neighbors,  he  caught  a  flash  of  blue  gingham  by  the 
open  door  and  realized  that  the  Valkyrie  had  taken  a 
short  cut. 

The  dog,  too,  had  arrived  there  ahead  of  its  master 
and  was  fawning  now  on  the  girl,  who  leaned  impuls- 
ively over  to  take  the  gentle-pointed  muzzle  between 
her  palms. 

"I'm  sorry  I  whopped  ye,"  she  declared  in  a  silver- 
voiced  contrition  that  made  the  man  think  of  thrush 
notes.  "Hit  wasn't  yore  fault  no-how.  Hit  was  thet 
— thet  stuck-up  f urriner.  I  hates  him !" 

The  setter  waved  its  plumed  tail  in  forgiveness  and 
contentment,  and  the  girl,  discovering  with  an  upward 
glance  that  she  had  been  overheard,  rose  and  stood  for 
a  moment  defiantly  facing  the  object  of  her  denuncia- 
tion, then,  as  embarrassment  flooded  her  cheeks  with 
color,  fled  into  the  house. 

The  sense  of  having  stepped  back  into  an  older  cen- 
tury had  been  growing  on  John  Spurrier  ever  since 
he  had  turned  away  from  the  town  of  Waterfall,  and 
now  it  possessed  him  with  a  singular  fascination. 

79 


80      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Here  was  a  different  world,  somber  under  its 
shadow  of  frugality,  and  breathing  out  the  heavy  at- 
mosphere of  isolation.  The  spirit  of  this  strange  life 
looked  out  from  the  wearied  eyes  of  Dyke  Cappeze  as 
he  sat  filling  his  pipe  across  the  hearth,  a  little  later, 
and  it  sounded  in  his  voice  when  he  announced  slowly : 

"It's  not  for  me  to  withhold  hospitality  in  a  land 
where  a  ready  welcome  is  about  all  we  have  to  offer, 
and  yet  you  could  hardly  have  picked  a  worse  house 
to  come  to  between  the  Virginia  border  and  the  Kain- 
tuck  ridges." 

Spurrier  raised  his  brows  interrogatively,  and  at  the 
same  moment  he  noticed  matters  hitherto  overlooked. 
The  windows  were  heavily  shuttered  and  his  host  sat 
beyond  the  line  of  vision  from  the  open  door — with 
a  rifle  leaning  an  arm's  length  away. 

"Coming  as  a  stranger,"  continued  Cappeze,  "you 
start  without  enmities — with  a  clean  page.  You  might 
spend  your  life  here  and  find  a  sincere  welcome  every- 
where— so  long  as  you  avoided  other  men's  contro- 
versies. But  you  come  to  me  and  that,  sir,  is  a  bad 
beginning — a  very  bad  beginning." 

A  contemplative  cloud  of  smoke  went  up  from  the 
pipe,  and  the  voice  finished  in  a  tone  of  bitterness. 

"I'm  the  most  hated  man  in  this  region  where 
hatreds  grow  like  weeds." 

"You  mean  because  you  have  stood  out  for  the  en- 
forcement of  law?" 

The  other  nodded.  "It  has  taken  me  a  lifetime,"  he 
observed,  "to  learn  that  the  mountains  are  stronger, 
if  not  more  obstinate,  than  I." 

"Is  that  the  only  reason  they  hate  you?"  inquired 
the  visitor,  and  the  lawyer,  removing  the  pipe  stem 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      81 

from  his  teeth,  regarded  him  for  a  space  in  silence. 
Then  he  commented  quietly: 

"If  you  knew  this  country  better,  you  wouldn't 
have  to  ask  that  question.  In  Athens,  I  believe,  they 
ostracized  Aristides  because  he  was  'too  just  a  man.' ' 

"Nonetheless,  I'm  glad  I  came  to  you." 

Cappeze  smiled  gravely.  He  had  a  rude  sort  of 
dignity  which  Spurrier  found  beguiling;  a  politeness 
that  sprang  from  a  deeper  rooting  than  mere  formula. 

"Merely  coming  to  see  me — once  in  a  while — won't 
damn  you,  I  reckon.  A  man  has  a  license  to  be  inter- 
ested in  freaks.  But  take  my  advice,  and  I  sha'n't  be 
offended.  Tell  every  one  that  you  hold  no  brief  for 
me  and  listen  with  an  open  mind  when  they  black- 
guard me." 

Spurrier  laughed.  "In  a  place  where  assassination 
is  said  to  come  cheap,  you  have  at  least  been  able  to 
take  care  of  yourself,  sir." 

"That,"  said  the  other  slowly,  "is  as  it  happens.  My 
partner  was  less  lucky.  My  own  luck  may  break  some 
day." 

"And  yet  you  go  on  living  here  when  you'd  be  safe 
enough  anywhere  else." 

"Yes,  I  go  on  living  here.  It's  a  land  where  a  man's 
mind  starves  and  where  the  great  marching  song  of 

the  world's  progress  is  silent — and  yet "  Again 

he  paused  to  draw  in  and  exhale  a  cloud  of  pipe 
smoke.  "Yet  there's  something  in  the  winds  that  blow 
here,  in  the  air  one  breathes,  that  'is  native  to  my 
blood.'  Elsewhere  I  should  be  miserable,  sir,  and  my 
daughter " 

He  came  to  an  abrupt  stop  and  Spurrier  took  him 


82      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

up  quickly.  "She  seems  young  and  vital  enough  to 
crave  all  of  life's  variety." 

"But  she  is  contented,  sir."  The  elderly  man  spoke 
eagerly  as  though  to  convince  himself  and  quiet  trou- 
bling doubts.  "She,  too,  would  rather  be  here.  We 
know  this  life  and  take  it  as  we  find  it." 

Spurrier  felt  that  the  conversation  was  tending  into 
channels  too  personal  for  the  participation  of  a  chance 
acquaintance,  and  he  guided  it  to  a  less  intimate  sub- 
ject. 

"I  understand,  Mr.  Cappeze,  that  in  the  campaign 
just  ended,  you  stumped  this  district  whole-heartedly 
in  behalf  of  one  of  the  candidates  for  the  circuit 
judgeship." 

Again  the  hawk-keen  blaze  flared  in  the  eyes  of  his 
host. 

"You  are  mistaken,  sir,"  he  declared  with  heated 
emphasis.  "It  was  less  for  a  candidate  than  against 
one  that  I  worked.  The  man  whom  circumstances 
compelled  me  to  support  was  a  poor  thing,  but  he  was 
better  than  his  adversary." 

"Was  it  party  spirit  that  prompted  you,  then?"  in- 
quired the  guest,  feeling  that  politeness  called  for 
some  show  of  interest. 

"Sometimes  I  think,"  said  the  lawyer  with  a  grim 
smile,  "that  from  some  men  God  withholds  the  blessed 
power  of  riding  life's  waves.  All  they  can  do  is  to 
buffet  and  fight  and  wear  themselves  out.  Perhaps 
I'm  that  sort.  The  man  who  won — who  succeeded 
himself  on  the  bench — is  an  expedientist.  So  long  as 
he  presides,  timid  juries  will  return  timid  verdicts 
and  the  law  will  falter.  I  took  the  stump  to  brand 
him  before  the  people  as  an  apostate  to  his  oath.  I 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      83 

knew  he  would  win,  but  I  meant  to  make  him  wear  his 
trade-mark  of  cowardice  along  with  his  smirk  of  self- 
righteousness  !" 

As  Spurrier  listened,  not  to  a  feudist  but  to  a  man 
who  had  worn  himself  out  fighting  feudism,  there 
came  to  him  like  a  revelation  an  appreciation  of  the 
bitterness  which  runs  in  the  grim  undertow  of  this 
blood. 

"I  believe,"  he  suggested,  glancing  sidewise  at  the 
door  beyond  which  he  heard  the  thrushlike  voice  of 
the  girl,  "that  you  made  an  issue  of  a  murder  case 
which  collapsed — a  case  in  which  you  had  been  em- 
ployed to  prosecute." 

"Yes,"  Cappeze  told  him.  "Because  I  believe  it  to 
be  one  in  which  the  officers  of  the  court  lay  down  and 
quit  like  dogs.  The  defendant  was  a  red-handed 
bully,  generally  feared — and  the  law  was  in  timid 
keeping.  I  am  still  trying  to  have  the  grand  jury  call 
before  it  the  prosecutor,  the  sheriff,  and  every  deputy 
who  served  on  that  posse.  I  want  to  make  them  tell, 
on  oath,  just  how  hard  they  sought  to  apprehend  the 
assassin — who  still  walks  boldly  and  freely  among  us 
— unwhipped  of  justice." 

Spurrier  rose,  deeply  impressed  by  the  headstrong, 
willful  courage  of  this  old  insurgent,  whose  daugh- 
ter's eyes  were  so  full  of  spring  gentleness. 

Far  up  the  dwindling  thread  of  a  small  water 
course,  where  the  forest  was  jungle-thick,  a  log  cabin 
hung  perched  to  a  rocky  cornfield  that  tilted  like  a 
steep  roof,  and  under  its  shingles  Sim  Colby  dwelt 
alone.  Since  his  coming  here  he  had  been  assimilated 
into  the  commonplace  life  of  the  neighborhood  and 


84      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

the  question  of  his  origin  was  no  longer  discussed. 
The  time  had  gone  by  when  even  an  acquaintance  of 
other  days  would  be  apt  to  calculate  that  his  term  of 
enlistment  in  the  army  had  not  run  its  full  course. 
Moreover,  there  were  no  such  acquaintances  here; 
none  who  had  known  him  before  he  changed  his  name 
from  Grant  to  Colby.  The  shadow  of  dread  which 
had  once  obsessed  him  had  gradually  and  impercepti- 
bly lightened  until  for  weeks  together  he  forgot  how 
poignantly  it  had  once  haunted  him.  He  had  pains- 
takingly established  a  reputation  exemplary  beyond 
the  tendencies  of  his  nature  in  this  new  habitat — since 
trouble  might  cause  closed  pages  to  reopen. 

Now  on  a  November  afternoon  a  deputy  sheriff, 
serving  summonses  in  that  neighborhood  dismounted 
at  the  door  where  Sim  stood  with  his  hand  resting 
on  the  jamb,  and  the  two  mulled  over  what  sparse 
gossip  the  uneventful  neighborhood  afforded. 

"Old  Cappeze,  he's  a-seekin'  ter  rake  up  hell  afresh 
an'  brew  more  pestilence  fer  everybody,"  announced 
the  deputy  glumly. 

"What's  he  projeckin'  at  now?"  asked  Sim. 

"He's  seekin'  ter  warm  over  thet  ancient  Sam  Mose- 
bury  case  afore  ther  grand  jury.  Come  ter  think  of 
hit,  Sim,  ye  rid  with  ther  high  sheriff  yoreself  thet 
time,  didn't  ye?" 

Moodily  the  other  nodded.  That  was  a  matter  he 
preferred  to  leave  buried. 

"Waal,  Cappeze  is  claimin'  now  thet  ther  possy 
didn't  make  no  master  effort  ter  lay  hands  on  Sarn. 
He  aims  ter  hev  all  ye  boys  tell  ther  grand  jury  what 
ye  knows  erbout  ther  matter." 

The  deputy  turned  away,  but  in  afterthought  he 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      85 

paused,  thrashing  idly  with  his  switch  at  the  weed 
stalks,  as  he  retailed  an  almost  forgotten  item  of 
news. 

"A  furriner  come  ter  town  yistidday,  an'  sot  out 
straightway  acrost  Hemlock  Mountain  fer  old  Cap- 
peze's  dwellin'  house." 

"What  manner  of  man  war  he,  Joe?"  Sim's  inter- 
est was  perfunctory.  Had  he  been  haled  into  the 
grand-jury  room  in  those  earlier  days,  the  prospect 
would  have  bristled  with  apprehensions,  but  now  he 
had  behind  him  the  background  of  respectability  and 
Mose  Biggerstaff,  who  alone  knew  of  his  craven  be- 
havior as  a  member  of  the  posse,  was  dead.  Sim  felt 
secure  in  his  mantle  of  virtue. 

"He  war  a  right  upstandin'  sort  of  feller — ther  fur- 
riner," enlightened  the  deputy.  "He  goes  under  ther 
name  of  Spurrier — John  Spurrier." 

As  though  an  electric  wire  of  high  tension  had 
broken  and  brushed  him  in  falling,  Sim  Colby's  atti- 
tude stiffened  and  every  muscle  grew  taut  from  neck 
to  ankles  as  his  jaw  sagged. 

The  deputy,  with  his  foot  already  in  the  stirrup, 
missejj  the  terror  spasms  of  the  face  gone  suddenly 
putty  gray.  He  missed  the  gasp  that  contracted  the 
throat  and  caused  its  breath  to  wheeze,  and  when  he 
glanced  back  again  from  his  saddle,  the  other  had, 
with  an  effort  of  sheer  desperation,  regained  his  out- 
ward semblance  of  composure.  He  still  leaned  in- 
dolently against  the  door  frame,  but  now  he  needed 
its  support,  because  all  his  nerves  jumped  and  a  confu- 
sion like  the  swarming  of  angry  bees  filled  his  brain. 

Afterward  he  groped  his  way  inside  and  dropped 
down  into  a  low  chair  by  the  hearth.  For  a  long  time 


86      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

he  sat  there  breathing  sterterously  while  the  untended 
fire  died  away  to  ashen  dreariness.  The  sun  went 
down  beyond  the  pine  tops  and  still  he  sat  dully  with 
his  hands  hanging  over  his  knees,  their  fingers  twitch- 
ing in  panic  aimlessness. 

Out  of  a  past  that  he  had  cut  away  from  the  present 
had  arisen  a  ghost  of  hideous  menace.  Here  into  the 
laurel  which  had  promised  sanctuary  fiis  Nemesis  had 
pursued  him. 

Two  men  with  the  guilt  of  a  murder  standing  be- 
tween them  had  come  into  a  radius  too  small  to  con- 
tain them  both.  It  was  as  if  they  had  met  on  a  narrow 
log  spanning  a  chasm  where  only  one  could  pass  and 
the  other  must  fall. 

If  old  Cappeze  dragged  him  to  the  courthouse  now, 
he  would  be  delivered  over  to  Spurrier,  waiting  there 
to  identify  him,  as  a  fox  in  a  trap  is  delivered  to  the 
skinning  knife.  That  must  be  the  meaning  of  the 
stranger's  visit  to  the  lawyer. 

Sim  Colby  went  to  an  ancient  and  dilapidated 
bureau  and  from  a  creaking  drawer  took  out  a  me- 
mento which,  for  some  reason,  he  had  preserved  from 
times  not  treasured  in  memory.  He  carried  it  to  the 
open  door  and  stood  looking  at  it  as  it  lay  on  the  palm 
of  his  hand  with  the  light  glinting  upon  it. 

It  was  a  sharpshooter's  medal,  for,  whatever  his 
military  shortcomings,  Private  Grant  had  been  an  effi- 
cient rifleman,  and  as  he  looked  at  it  now  his  lips 
twisted  into  a  grim  smile.  Then  he  took  his  rifle  from 
its  corner  and,  sitting  on  the  doorstep,  polished  it  with 
a  fond  particularity,  oiling  its  mechanism  and  burnish- 
ing its  bore. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      87 

Already  Spurrier  had  made  arrangements  to  en- 
sconce himself  under  the  roof  of  a  house  he  had 
rented.  Already  the  faces  that  he  met  in  the  road 
were,  for  the  most  part,  familiar,  and  without  excep- 
tion they  were  friendly.  Quick  on  the  heels  of  his 
first  disgust  for  the  squalor  of  this  lapsed  and  retarded 
life,  had  succeeded  an  exhilaration  born  of  the  wine- 
like  sparkle  of  the  air  and  the  majestic  breadth  of 
vistas  across  ridge  and  valley.  As  he  watched  mile- 
wide  shadows  creep  between  sky-high  lines  of  peaks, 
his  dreams  borrowed  something  of  their  vastness. 

Through  half -closed  lids  imagination  looked  out 
until  the  range-broken  spaces  altered  to  its  vision. 
Spurrier  saw  white  roads  and  the  glitter  of  rails  run- 
ning off  into  gossamer  webs  of  distance.  Where  now 
stood  virgin  forests  of  hard  wood  he  visualized  the 
shaftings  of  oil  derricks,  the  red  iron  sheeting  of 
tanks,  the  belching  stacks  of  refineries,  and  in  that  de- 
faced landscape  he  read  the  triumph  of  conquest;  the 
guerdon  of  wealth;  the  satisfaction  of  power. 

One  afternoon  Spurrier  started  over  to  the  house 
he  had  rented,  but  into  which  he  had  not  yet  moved. 
The  way  lay  for  a  furlong  or  more  through  a  gorge 
deeply  and  somberly  shaded.  Even  now,  at  midday, 
the  sunlight  of  the  upper  places  left  it  cloistered  and 
the  bowlders  trooped  along  in  ferny  dampness,  where 
the  little  waters  whispered. 

Beside  a  bulky  hummock  of  green-corroded  sand- 
stone the  man  halted  and  stood  musingly,  with  eyes 
downcast  and  thoughts  uplifted — uplifted  to  the  wor- 
ship of  his  one  god:  Ambition.  At  his  feet  was  an 
oily  sediment  along  the  water's  edge  and  the  gravel 
was  thick  with  "sand  blossom" — tiny  fossil  forma- 


88      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

tions  that  are  prima  facie  evidence  of  oil.  Then, 
without  warning,  he  felt  a  light  sting  along  his  cheek 
and  the  rock-walled  fissure  reverberated  under  what 
seemed  a  volley  of  musketry. 

But  the  magnified  and  crumbling  effect  of  the  echo 
struck  him  with  a  less  poignant  realization  than  a 
slighter  sound  and  a  sharper  one.  As  if  a  taut  piano 
wire  had  been  sharply  struck,  came  the  clear  whang 
that  he  recognized  as  the  flight  song  of  a  rifle  bullet, 
and,  whatever  its  origin  it  called  for  a  prompt  tak- 
ing of  cover. 

Spurrier  side-stepped  as  quickly  as  a  boxer,  and 
stood,  for  the  moment  at  least,  bulwarked  behind  the 
rock  that  was  so  providentially  close. 

"I'm  John  Spurrier — a  stranger  in  these  parts," 
he  sung  out  in  a  confident  voice  of  forced  boldness 
and  cheerfulness.  "I  reckon  you've  made  a  mistake 
in  your  man." 

There  was  no  answer  and  Spurrier  cautiously  raised 
his  hat  on  the  end  of  a  stick  with  the  same  deliberation 
that  might  have  marked  his  action  had  it  been  his  own 
head  emerging  from  cover. 

Instantly  the  hidden  rifle  spoke  again  and  the  hat 
came  down  pierced  through  its  band,  while  the  rocks 
once  more  reverberated  to  multiplied  detonations. 

"It  would  seem,"  the  man  told  himself  grimly,  "that 
after  all  there  was  no  mistake." 

He  was  unarmed  and  in  no  position  to  pursue  in- 
vestigations of  the  mystery,  but  by  crawling  along  on 
his  belly  he  could  keep  his  body  shielded  behind  the 
litter  of  broken  stone  that  edged  the  brook  until  he 
reached  the  end  of  the  gorge  itself  and  came  to  safer 
territory. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      89 

Slowly,  Spurrier  traveled  out  of  his  precarious  po- 
sition, flattening  himself  when  he  paused  to  rest  and 
listen,  as  he  had  made  his  men  flatten  themselves  over 
there  in  the  islands  when  they  were  going  forward 
without  cover  under  the  fire  of  snipers. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

SPURRIER    was    not    frightened,    but   he    was 
deeply  mystified,  and  when  he  reached  the  cabin 
which  he  was  preparing  for  occupancy  he  sat 
down  on  the  old  millstone  that  served  as  a  doorstep 
and   sought   enlightenment   from   reflection   and   the 
companionship  of  an  ancient  pipe. 

In  an  hour  or  two  "Uncle  Jimmy"  Litchfield,  under 
whose  smoky  roof  he  was  being  temporarily  sheltered, 
would  arrive  with  a  jolt  wagon  and  yoke  of  oxen, 
teaming  over  the  household  goods  that  Spurrier  meant 
to  install.  Already  the  new  tenant  had  swept  and 
whitewashed  his  cabin  interior  and  had  let  the  clear 
winds  rake  away  the  mildew  of  its  long  vacancy.  Now 
he  sat  smoking  with  a  perplexity-drawn  brow,  while 
a  tuneful  sky  seemed  to  laugh  mockingly  at  the  ab- 
surd idea  of  riflemen  in  ambush. 

Every  neighbor  had  manifested  a  spirit  of  cordiality 
toward  him.  To  many  of  them  he  was  indebted  for 
small  and  voluntary  kindnesses,  and  he  had  main- 
tained a  diplomatic  neutrality  in  all  local  affairs  that 
bore  a  controversial  aspect. 

Certainly,  he  could  not  flatter  himself  that  as  yet 
any  premonition  of  danger  had  percolated  to  those  dis- 
tant centers  of  industry  against  which  he  was  devis- 
ing a  campaign  of  surprise.  One  explanation  only 
presented  itself  with  any  color  of  plausiblity. 

90 


LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      91 

That  trickle  of  water  might  come  to  the  gorge  from 
a  spot  back  in  the  laurel  where,  under  the  shelter  of 
a  felled  hemlock  top,  some  one  tended  a  small  "block- 
ade" distillery;  some  one  who  resented  an  invasion  of 
his  privacy. 

Yet  even  that  inference  was  not  satisfactory.  Only 
yesterday  a  man  had  offered  him  moonshine  whisky, 
declaring  quite  unsuspiciously:  "Ef  ye're  vouched  fer 
by  Uncle  Jimmy,  I  ain't  a'skeered  of  ye  none.  I 
made  thet  licker  myself — drink  hearty." 

Of  the  real  truth  no  ghostly  glimmer  of  suspicion 
came  in  even  the  most  shadowy  fashion  to  his  mind. 

His  efforts  to  trace  to  definite  result  some  filament 
of  fact  that  might  prove  the  court-martial  to  have 
reached  a  conclusion  at  variance  with  the  truth,  had 
all  ended  in  failure.  That  the  matter  was  hopeless 
was  an  admission  which  he  could  not  afford  to  make 
and  which  he  doggedly  denied,  but  with  waning  confi- 
dence. 

This  state  of  mind  prevented  him  from  suspecting 
any  connection  between  this  present  and  mysterious 
enmity  and  those  things  which  had  happened  across 
the  Pacific. 

He  had  kept  himself  informed  as  to  the  movements 
of  Private  Severance  and  when  that  time-expired  man 
had  stepped  ashore  at  San  Francisco,  John  Spurrier 
had  been  waiting  to  confront  him,  even  though  it  in- 
volved facing  men  who  had  once  been  brother  officers 
and  who  could  no  longer  speak  to  him  as  an  equal. 

From  the  former  soldier,  who  brought  a  flush  to 
his  cheeks  by  saluting  him  and  calling  him  "Lieut- 
enant," he  had  learned  nothing.  There  had  been  no 
reason  to  hope  for  much.  It  was  unlikely  that  he 


92      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

would  be  able  to  shake  into  a  damaging  admission  of 
complicity — and  any  statement  of  value  must  have 
amounted  to  that — the  witness  who  had  come  un- 
scathed out  of  the  cross-examination  of  two  courts- 
martial. 

Indeed  Spurrier  had  expected  to  encounter  unveiled 
hostility  in  the  attitude  of  the  mountaineer,  who  had 
been  doing  sentry  duty  at  the  door  through  which 
the  prisoner,  Grant,  had  escaped.  It  might  have  fol- 
lowed logically  upon  the  officer's  defense,  which  had 
sought  to  involve  that  sentinel  as  an  accomplice  in 
the  fugitive's  flight,  and  even  in  the  murder  itself. 

But  Severance  had  greeted  him  without  rancor  and 
with  the  disarming  guise  of  candid  friendliness. 

"I'd  be  full  willin'  ter  help  ye,  Lieutenant — ef  so  be 
I  could,"  he  had  protested.  "I  knows  full  well  yore 
lawyers  was  plum  obliged  ter  seek  ter  hang  ther  blame 
wharsoever  they  was  able,  an'  I  ain't  harborin'  no 
grudge  because  I  happened  ter  be  one  they  sought  ter 
hurt.  But  I  don't  know  nothin'  that  kin  aid  ye." 

"Do  you  think  Grant  escaped  alive?"  demanded 
Spurrier,  and  the  other  shook  his  head. 

"I  feels  so  plum,  dead  sartain  he  died,"  came  the 
prompt  response,  "thet  when  I  gits  back  home  I'm 
goin'  ter  tell  his  folks  he  did.  Bud  Grant  was  a  friend 
of  mine,  but  when  he  went  out  inter  thet  jungle  he 
was  too  weakly  ter  keer  fer  hisself  an'  ef  he'd  lived 
they  would  hev  done  found  him  an'  brought  him 
back." 

Spurrier  had  come  to  embrace  that  belief  himself. 
The  one  man  whose  admission,  wrung  from  him  by 
persuasion  or  compulsion,  could  give  him  back  his 
dean  name,  must  have  perished  there  in  the  bijuca 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      93 

tangles.  The  hope  of  meeting  the  runaway  in  life 
had  died  in  the  ex-officer's  heart  and  consequently  it 
did  not  now  occur  to  him  to  think  of  the  deserter  as  a 
living  menace. 

At  length  he  rose  and  stood  against  the  shadowy 
background  of  his  door,  which  was  an  oblong  of  dark- 
ness behind  the  golden  outer  clarity. 

Off  in  the  tangle  of  oak  and  poplar  and  pine  a  ruffed 
grouse  drummed  and  a  "cock  of  the  woods"  rapped  its 
tattoo  on  a  sycamore  top. 

Once  he  fancied  he  heard  a  stirring  in  the  rhodo- 
dendron where  its  large  waxen  leaves  banked  them- 
selves thickly  a  hundred  yards  distant,  and  his  eyes 
turned  that  way  seeking  to  pierce  the  impenetrable 
screen — but  unavailingly.  Perhaps  some  small,  wild 
thing  had  moved  there. 

Then,  as  had  happened  before  that,  afternoon, 
the  stillness  broke  to  a  rifle  shot — this  time  clean  and 
sharp,  nnclogged  by  echoes. 

Spurrier  stood  for  an  instant  while  a  surprised  ex- 
pression showed  in  his  out-staring  eyes,  then  he 
swayed  on  his  feet.  His  hands  came  up  and  clutched 
spasmodically  at  his  left  breast,  and  with  a  sudden 
collapse  he  dropped  heavily  backward,  and  lay  full 
length,  swallowed  in  the  darkness  that  hung  beyond 
the  door. 

Over  the  rhododendron  thicket  quiet  settled 
drowsily  again,  but  through  the  toughness  of  inter- 
laced branches  stole  upward  and  outward  an  acrid 
powder  smell  and  a  barely  perceptible  trickle  of  smoke. 

Crouched  there,  his  neutral-hued  clothing  merging 
into  the  earth  tones  about  him,  a  man  peered  out,  but 
he  did  not  rise  to  go  forward  and  inspect  his  work. 


94      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Instead,  he  opened  the  breech  block  of  his  piece  and 
with  unhurried  care  blew  through  the  barrel — cleans- 
ing it  of  its  vapors. 

"I  reckon  thar  ain't  no  needcessity  to  go  over  thar 
an'  look  at  him,"  he  reflected.  "When  they  draps 
down  thet-away,  they  don't  git  up  no  more — an'  some 
person  from  afar  mout  spy  me  crossin'  ther  door- 
yard." 

So  he  edged  backward  into  the  tangle,  moving  like 
a  crawfish  and  noiselessly  took  up  his  homeward 
journey. 

When  the  slow  plodding  ox  team  came  at  last  to 
the  dooryard  and  Uncle  Billy  stood  shouting  outside 
the  house,  Sim  Colby,  holding  to  tangles  where  he 
would  meet  no  chance  wayfarer,  was  already  miles 
away  and  hurrying  to  establish  his  alibi  against  sus- 
picion, in  his  own  neighborhood — where  no  one  knew 
he  had  been  absent. 

Though  it  be  an  evil  thing  and  shameful  to  con- 
fess, ex-private  Bud  Grant,  alias  Sim  Colby,  traveled 
light-heartedly,  roweled  by  no  tortures  of  conscience, 
but  blithe  in  the  assurance  of  a  ghost  laid,  and  a 
peril  averted. 

He  would  have  been  both  amazed  and  chagrined 
had  he  remained  peering  from  his  ambuscade,  for 
when  Uncle  Billy's  shadow  fell  through  the  open  door 
the  man  to  whom  he  had  come  rose  from  a  chair  to 
meet  him,  and  he  presented  no  mangled  or  blood- 
stained breast  to  the  eyes  of  his  visitors. 

"Ye  ain't  jest  a-quippin'  with  me,  be  ye?"  demanded 
the  old  mountaineer  incredulously  when  he  had  heard 
the  story  in  all  its  detail.  "This  hyar's  a  right  seri- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      95 

ous-soundin'  matter — an'  ye  ain't  got  no  enemies 
amongst  us  thet  I've  heered  tell  of." 

Spurrier  pointed  out  the  spot  in  the  newly  white- 
washed wall  where  the  bullet  lay  imbedded  with  its 
glint  of  freshly  flattened  lead. 

"After  the  first  experience,"  he  explained,  "I'd  had 
some  time  to  think.  I  was  standing  in  the  door  so  I 
fell  down — and  played  dead."  He  added  after  a  pause 
quietly:  "I've  seen  men  shot  to  death,  and  I  hap- 
pened to  know  how  a  man  drops  when  it's  a  heart  hit. 
I  fell  inside  where  I'd  be  out  of  sight,  because  I  was 
unarmed,  and  all  I  could  do  was  to  wait  for  you.  I 
watched  through  the  door,  but  the  fellow  never 
showed  himself." 

"Come  on,  boys,"  commanded  the  old  mountaineer 
in  a  determined  voice.  "Let's  beat  thet  la'rel  while 
ther  tracks  is  still  fresh.  Mebby  we  mout  1'arn  some- 
thin'  of  this  hyar  monstrous  matter." 

But  they  learned  nothing.  Sim  Colby  had  spent 
painstaking  thought  upon  his  effort  and  he  had  left 
no  evidence  written  in  the  mold  of  the  forest. 

"Hit  beats  all  hell,"  declared  the  nonplussed  Uncle 
Billy  at  last.  "I  ain't  got  ther  power  ter  fathom  hit. 
Ef  I  war  you  I  wouldn't  talk  erbout  this  ter  no  man 
save  only  me  an'  old  Dyke  Cappeze.  Still-huntin' 
lands  more  game  then  blowin'  a  fox  horn."  And 
Spurrier  nodded  his  head. 

Though  Spurrier  for  a  few  days  after  that  slipped 
through  the  gorge  with  the  stealth  of  a  sharpshooter, 
covering  himself  behind  rocks  as  he  went,  he  heard 
no  sound  there  more  alarming  than  the  chatter  of 
squirrels  or  the  grunt  of  a  strayed  razor-back  rooting 
among  the  acorns.  Gradually  he  relaxed  his  vigi- 


96      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

lance  as  a  man  will  if  his  nature  is  bold  and  his  dreams 
too  sweeping  to  be  forever  hobbled  by  petty  precau- 
tions. 

The  purpose  which  he  privately  served  called  for 
ranging  the  country  with  a  trained  eye,  and  with  him 
went  the  contour  maps  upon  which  were  traced  red 
lines. 

One  day  he  came,  somewhat  winded  from  a  stiff 
climb,  to  an  eminence  that  spread  the  earth  below  him 
and  made  of  it  a  panorama.  The  bright  carnival  of 
the  autumn  was  spending  itself  to  its  end,  but  among 
trees  already  naked  stood  others  that  clung  to  a  gor- 
geousness  of  color  the  more  brilliant  in  the  face  of 
death.  Overhead  was  flawless  blue,  and  there  was  a 
dreamy  violet  where  it  merged  mistly  with  the  sky- 
line ridges. 

"All  that  it  needs,"  mused  the  man  whimsically  and 
aloud,  "is  the  music  of  Pan's  pipes — and  perhaps  a 
small  chorus  of  dryads." 

Then  he  heard  a  laugh  and,  wheeling  suddenly,  dis- 
covered Glory  Cappeze  regarding  him  from  the  cap 
of  a  towering  rock  where,  until  he  had  reached  this 
level,  she  had  been  hidden  from  view.  Now  she 
flushed  shyly  as  the  man  strode  over  and  confronted 
her. 

"Do  you  still  hate  me?"  he  inquired. 

"I  reckon  thet  don't  make  no  master  differ  ter  ye, 
does  hit?"  The  musical  voice  was  painfully  diffident, 
and  he  remembered  that  she  had  always  been  shy  with 
him  except  on  that  first  meeting  when  the  leaping 
anger  in  her  eyes  had  burned  away  self-consciousness. 

"You  know,"  he  gravely  reminded  her,  "when  I 
first  saw  you,  you  were  on  the  point  of  thrashing  me. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      97 

You  had  me  cowed  and  timid.  Since  then  I've  come 
to  think  of  you  as  the  shooting  star." 

He  paused,  waiting  for  her  to  demand  an  elucida- 
tion of  that  somewhat  obscure  statement,  but  she  said 
nothing.  She  only  sat  gazing  over  his  head  toward 
the  horizon,  and  her  cheeks  were  excitedly  flushed 
from  the  delicate  pink  of  apple  bloom  to  the  warmer 
color  of  peach  blossom. 

"Since  you  don't  ask  what  I  mean,"  he  continued 
easily,  "I  shall  tell  you.  I've  been  to  your  house  per- 
haps four  or  five  times.  From  afar,  each  time,  I've 
seen  a  scrap  of  color.  Sometimes  it  has  been  blue, 
sometimes  red,  but  always  it  has  vanished  with  the 
swiftness  of  a  shooting  star.  It  is  a  flash  and  it  is 
gone.  Sometimes  from  beyond  a  door  I  also  hear  a 
voice  singing." 

He  leaned  his  elbows  on  the  rock  at  her  feet  and 
stood  gazing  into  the  eyes  that  would  not  meet  his 
own,  and  still  she  favored  him  with  no  response. 
After  a  little  silence  the  man  altered  his  tone  and 
spoke  argumentatively: 

"You  forgave  the  dog,  you  know — why  not  the 
man?" 

That  question  carried  her  thoughts  back  to  the  mur- 
dered quail  and  a  gusty  back-flash  of  resentment  con- 
quered her  diffidence.  Her  sternness  of  tone  and  the 
thrushlike  softness  of  her  voice,  mingled  with  the 
piquancy  of  paradox. 

"A  dawg  don't  know  no  better." 

"Some  dogs  are  very  wise,"  he  assured  her.  "And 
some  men  very  foolish." 

"The  dawg,"  she  went  on  still  unplacated,  "got 
right  down  on  his  stomach  and  asked  my  pardon.  I 


98      THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

lied  ter  fergive  him,  when  he  humbled  hisself  like 
that." 

"I'm  willing,"  John  Spurrier  amiably  assured  her, 
"to  get  right  down  on  my  stomach,  too." 

Then  she  laughed,  and  though  she  sought  to  re- 
treat again  into  her  aloofness,  the  spell  was  broken. 

"Am  I  forgiven?"  he  demanded,  and  she  shook 
her  head  doubtfully  though  no  longer  with  conviction. 

"No,"  she  told  him;  then  she  added  with  a  start- 
lingly  exact  mimicry  of  her  father's  most  legalistic 
manner:  "No.  The  co'te  will  take  the  case  under 
advisement  an'  defer  jedgment." 

"I  forgot,"  he  said,  "that  you  are  a  lawyer's  daugh- 
ter. What  were  you  looking  at  across  there — so  fas- 
cinatedly?" 

"Them  hills,"  she  enlightened  succinctly. 

Spurrier  studied  her.  Her  deep  eyes  had  held  a 
glow  of  almost  prayerful  enchantment  for  which  her 
laconic  words  seemed  inadequate. 

Watching  her  out  of  the  tail  of  his  eye  he  fell  into 
borrowed  phrases:  "'Violet  peaks  uplifted  through 
the  crystal  evening  air.' ' 

She  shot  a  glance  at  him  suddenly,  eagerly ;  then  at 
once  the  lids  lowered,  masking  the  eyes  again  as  she 
inquired: 

"Thet  thar's  poetry,  ain't  hit?" 

"I'm  prepared  to  go  to  the  mat  with  any  critic  who 
holds  the  contrary,"  he  assured  her. 

"Hit's  comin'  on  ter  be  night.  I've  got  ter  start 
home,"  she  irrelevantly  announced,  as  she  slid  from 
her  rough  throne,  and  the  man  fell  boldly  in  step  at 
her  side. 

"When  your  honor  rules  on  the  matter  under  ad- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN      99 

visement,"  he  said  humbly  before  their  paths  sepa- 
rated, "please  remember  that  the  defendant  was  a 
poor  wretch  who  didn't  know  he  was  breaking  the 
law." 

For  the  first  time  their  glances  engaged  fully  and 
without  avoidance,  and  a  twinkle  flashed  in  the  girl's 
pupils. 

"Ignorantia  legis  neminem  excusat"  she  serenely 
responded,  and  Spurrier  gasped.  Here  was  a  girl  who 
could  not  steer  her  English  around  the  shoals  of  illit- 
eracy, giving  him  his  retort  in  Latin:  "Ignorance  of 
the  law  excuses  no  one."  Of  course,  it  meant  only 
that  her  quick  memory  had  appropriated  and  was 
parroting  legal  phrases  learned  from  her  father,  but  it 
struck  the  chord  of  contrasts,  and  to  the  man's  imag- 
ination it  dramatized  her  so  that  when  she  had  gone 
on  with  the  lissome  grace  of  her  light  stride,  he  stood 
looking  after  her. 

Rather  abruptly  after  that  the  autumn  fires  of 
splendor  burned  out  to  the  ashes  of  coming  winter, 
and  then  it  was  that  Spurrier  went  north.  As  his 
train  carried  him  seaward  he  had  the  feeling  that  it 
was  also  transporting  him  from  an  older  to  a  younger 
century,  and  that  while  his  mind  dwelt  on  the  stalwart 
and  unsophisticated  folk  with  whom  he  had  been 
brushing  shoulders,  the  life  resolved  itself  into  an 
austere  picture  against  which  the  image  of  Glory  stood 
out  with  the  quick  vividness  of  a  red  cardinal  flitting 
among  somber  pine  branches. 

Because  she  was  so  far  removed  from  his  own  orbit 
he  could  think  of  her  impersonally  and  enjoy  the 
thought  as  though  it  were  of  a  new  type  of  flower  or 


100    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

bird,  recognizing  her  attractive  qualities  in  a  detached 
fashion. 

As  Spurrier  gave  himself  up  to  the  relaxation  of 
reminiscence  with  that  abandon  of  train  travel  which 
admits  of  no  sustained  effort,  he  began  comparing  this 
life,  left  over  from  another  era,  with  that  he  had 
known  against  more  cultivated  and  complex  back- 
grounds. 

Then  in  analytical  mood  he  reviewed  his  own  past, 
looking  with  a  lengthening  of  perspective  on  the  love 
affair  that  had  been  broken  by  his  court-martial.  His 
adoration  of  the  Beverly  girl  had  been  youthful 
enough  to  surround  itself  with  young  illusions. 

That  was  why  it  had  all  hurt  so  bitterly,  perhaps, 
with  its  ripping  away  of  his  faith  in  romantic  concep- 
tions of  love-loyalty. 

He  wondered  now  if  he  had  not  borne  himself  with 
the  Quixotic  martyrdom  of  callowness.  He  had 
sought  to  shield  the  girl  from  even  the  realization  that 
her  lack  of  confidence  was  ungenerous.  He  had 
sought  to  take  all  the  pain  and  spare  her  from  shar- 
ing it.  But  she  had  solaced  herself  with  a  swift  re- 
covery and  a  new  lover,  and  had  he  been  guilty  she 
could  not  have  abandoned  him  more  cavalierly.  Well, 
that  softness  belonged  to  an  out-grown  stage  of  de- 
velopment. 

He  had  seen  himself  then  as  obeying  the  dictates 
of  chivalry.  He  thought  of  it  now  as  inexperienced 
folly — perhaps,  so  far  as  she  was  concerned,  as  a  lucky 
escape.  His  amours  of  the  present  were  not  so 
naively  conducted.  To  Vivian  he  had  paid  his  atten- 
tions with  an  eye  watchful  of  material  advantages. 
They  belonged  to  a  sophisticated  circle  which  sea- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    101 

soned  life's  fare  rather  with  the  salt  of  cynicism  than 
with  the  sugar  of  romanticism.  Yet  the  thought  of 
Vivian  caused  no  pulse  to  flutter  excitedly. 

The  glimpse  of  Glory  had  been  refreshing  because 
she  was  so  honest  and  sincere  that  she  disquieted 
one's  acquired  cynicism  of  view-point.  One  might  as 
well  spout  world-wisdom  to  a  lilac  bush  as  to  Glory! 
Yet  there  was  a  sureness  about  her  which  argued  for 
her  creed  of  wholesome,  simple  things  and  old  half- 
forgotten  faiths  which  one  would  like  to  keep  alive — 
if  one  could. 

Snow  drifted  in  the  air  and  made  a  nimbus  about 
each  arc  light  as  Spurrier's  taxi,  turning  between  the 
collonade  pillars  of  the  Pennsylvania  Station,  gave 
him  his  first  returning  glimpse  of  New  York.  He  had 
come  East  in  obedience  to  a  wired  summons  from 
Martin  Harrison,  brief  to  curtness  as  were  all  busi- 
ness messages  from  that  man  of  few  and  trenchant 
words.  The  telegram  had  been  slow  crossing  the 
mountain,  but  Spurrier  had  been  prompt  in  his  re- 
sponse. 

A  tempered  glare  hung  mistily  above  the  Longacre 
Square  district  through  the  snow  flurries  to  the  north, 
and  the  rumbled  voice  of  the  town,  after  these  months 
in  quiet  places,  was  to  the  returned  pilgrim  like  the 
heavy  breathing  of  a  monster  sleeping  out  a  fever. 

At  the  room  that  he  kept  at  his  club  in  Fifth  Avenue 
— for  that  was  a  part  of  the  pretentious  display  of 
affluence  made  necessary  by  his  ambitious  scheme  of 
things — he  called  up  a  number  from  memory.  It  was 
a  number  not  included  in  the  telephone  directory,  and, 
recognizing  the  voice  that  answered  him,  he  said 
briefly : 


102    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"Manners,  this  is  Mr.  Spurrier.  Will  you  tell  Mr. 
Harrison  I'm  on  the  wire?" 

"Hello,  Spurrier,"  boomed  a  deep  voice  after  an 
interval.  "We're  dining  out  this  evening  and  we  go 
to  the  opera  afterward,  but  I  want  a  word  with  you 
to-night.  In  fact,  I  want  you  to  start  for  Russia  on 
Wednesday.  Drop  into  our  box,  and  drive  home  with 
me  for  a  few  minutes  afterward." 

Russia  on  Wednesday !  Spurrier's  unoccupied  hand 
clenched  in  irritation,  but  his  voice  was  as  unruffled 
as  if  he  had  been  asked  to  make  ready  for  a  journey 
to  Hoboken.  He  knew  enough  of  Harrison's  methods 
to  ask  no  questions.  If  they  could  have  been  answered 
over  the  phone  Harrison  could  have  found  many  men 
to  send  to  Russia.  It  was  because  they  were  for  his 
ear  alone  that  he  had  been  called  to  New  York. 

That  evening  he  listened  to  "Otello"  with  thoughts 
that  wandered  from  the  voices  of  the  singers.  They 
refused  even  to  be  chained  by  the  novelty  of  a  slender 
tenor  as  a  new  Russian  star  held  the  spotlight.  He 
was  studying  the  almost  too  regular  beauty  of  Vivian 
Harrison's  profile  as  she  sat  serene  and  self-confident 
with  the  horseshoe  of  the  Metropolitan  beyond  her. 

At  midnight  Spurrier  sat  with  Harrison  in  his 
study  and  listened  to  a  crisp  summarizing  of  the  Rus- 
sian scheme.  It  proved  to  be  a  project  boldly  con- 
ceived on  a  broad  scale  and  requiring  an  ambassador 
dependable  enough  and  resourceful  enough  to  decide 
large  matters  as  they  arose,  without  cabling  for  in- 
structions. 

In  turn  Spurrier  talked  of  his  own  past  doings,  and 
through  their  cigar  smoke  the  seeming  idleness  of 
those  weeks  assayed  a  wealth  of  exact  information 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    103 

and  stood  revealed  as  the  incubation  period  of  a  large 
conception.  Keenly  formulated  plans  emerged  from 
his  recitals  so  simply  and  convincingly  that  the  greater 
financier  leaned  forward  and  let  his  cigar  die. 

Then  Harrison  rose  and  paced  the  room. 

"You  know  something  about  me,  Spurrier,"  he 
began.  "When  I  came  East  they  laughed  at  me — if 
they  deigned  to  notice  me  at  all.  They  said:  'Here 
comes  a  bushleaguer  who  thinks  he's  good  enough  for 
the  big  game.  It's  one  more  lamb  to  the  shearing 
shed.'  That's  the  East,  Spurrier!  That's  cock-sure 
New  York!  They  sneer  at  a  Western-bred  horse — 
or  a  Western-trained  prize  fighter — and  when  the 
newcomer  licks  the  best  they've  got  they  straightway 
let  out  a  holler  that  they  taught  him  all  he  knows. 
Why,  New  York  would  die  of  lassitude  and  anaemia  if 
it  wasn't  for  blood  infusions  from  the  provinces!" 

Spurrier  gazed  interestedly  at  the  tall  figure  of  the 
man  with  the  sandy  red  mustache,  and  the  snapping 
eyes,  who  for  all  his  impeccability  of  evening  dress, 
might  have  taken  a  shovel  or  pick  from  a  section 
hand  and  taught  him  how  to  level  a  road  bed.  Harri- 
son laughed  shortly. 

"They  haven't  inhaled  me  so  far.  I  brought  only 
a  million  with  me  to  this  town,  and  I've  got — well, 
I've  got  plenty,  but  I  can't  call  it  a  day  quite  yet. 
There's  one  buccaneer  to  be  settled  with  first!  He's 
got  to  go  to  the  mat  with  me  and  come  up  bloody 
enough  to  admit  that  he's  been  in  a  ruction.  He 
chooses  to  pretend  that  I'm  non-existent,  and  I  won't 
stand  being  ignored!  I  want  to  leave  my  mark  on 
that  man,  and  with  God's  help — and  yours — I'm  going 
to  do  it!" 


104    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"You  mean  Trabue?"  asked  Spurrier,  and  Harri- 
son's head  gave  a  decisive  jerk  of  affirmation  while 
the  hot  glow  of  his  eyes  made  his  companion  think  of 
smelting  furnaces. 

"That's  why  this  thing  of  yours  interests  me. 
That's  why  I'm  willing  to  get  behind  you  and  back  you 
to  the  hilt,"  the  big  fellow  of  finance  went  on.  "A. 
O.  and  G.  are  trying  to  hold  others  out  of  this  Ken- 
tucky field.  That  proves  that  they  think  enough  of 
it  to  be  hurt  by  having  it  torn  from  their  teeth.  All  I 
need  to  know  is  what  will  hurt  them!  If  you  can 
take  some  teeth  along  with  the  bone,  so  much  the  bet- 
ter." He  paused,  then  in  a  voice  that  had  altered  to 
cold  steadiness,  commanded:  "Now,  give  me  your 
facts." 

"At  present  prices  of  oil,"  summarized  Spur- 
rier, "the  development  back  of  Hemlock  Mountain 
wouldn't  pay.  With  higher  market  values,  it  would 
pay,  but  less  handsomely  than  other  fields  A.  O.  and 
G.  can  work.  Once  the  initial  cost  is  laid  out,  the 
profit  will  be  constant.  The  A.  O.  and  G.  idea  is  to 
hold  it  in  reserve  and  await  developments — meanwhile 
keeping  up  the  'no  trespass'  sign." 

"Doesn't  the  range  practically  prohibit  railroading?" 

"Possibly — but  it  doesn't  prohibit  pipe  lines." 

Spurrier  opened  the  packet  he  had  brought  in  his 
overcoat  pocket  and  spread  a  map  under  the  flooding 
light  of  a  table  lamp. 

"I  have  traced  there  what  seems  to  me  a  practical 
piping  route,"  he  explained.  "I  call  it  the  neck  of 
the  bottle.  There  is  a  sort  of  gap  through  the  hills 
and  a  porous  formation  caused  by  a  chain  of  caverns. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    105 

Nature  is  willing  to  help  with  some  ready-made  tun- 
nels." 

"Why  haven't  they  discovered  that?" 

"The  oil  development  of  fifteen  years  ago  never 
crossed  Hemlock  Mountain.  It  came  the  other  way." 

Harrison  stood  thinking  for  a  time,  then  demanded 
tersely:  "Have  you  secured  any  land  or  options?" 

"Not  an  acre,  nor  an  inch,"  laughed  Spurrier. 
"This  is  a  waiting  game.  I  don't  mean  to  appear  in- 
terested. If  any  man  offered  to  give  me  a  farm  I 
should  say  it  wasn't  worth  State  taxes." 

"How  do  we  get  the  property  into  our  hands 
then?" 

"The  buying  must  be  gradual  and  through  men 
with  whom  we  appear  to  have  no  connection." 

"And  the  State  charter — how  about  that?" 

"There  lies  the  chief  problem,"  admitted  Spurrier. 
"The  charter  must  come  from  a  legislature  that  A.  O. 
and  G.  can,  at  present,  control." 

"What,"  Harrison  shot  the  question  out  like  a  cross- 
examiner,  "is  the  present  attitude  of  the  natives  to- 
ward oil  and  oil  men?" 

"Indifference  and  skepticism."  The  reply  was 
prompt  but  the  amplification  more  deliberate.  "Once 
they  saw  wealth  ahead — then  the  boom  collapsed,  and 
they  have  no  longer  any  faith  in  the  magic  of  the  word 
'oil.' " 

"I  presume,"  suggested  Harrison,  "you  are  encour- 
aging that  disbelief?" 

Spurrier's  face  clouded,  but  only  for  a  moment. 
"I  am  the  most  skeptical  of  all  the  skeptics,"  he  as- 
sented, "and  yet  I'm  sorry  that  they  can't  be  gainers. 
They  are  an  honest,  up-standing  folk  and  they  have 


106    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

always  felt  the  pinch  of  privation.  After  all  they  are 
the  rightful  owners  and  development  of  their  coun- 
try ought  to  benefit  them.  Of  course,  though,  to  fore- 
cast the  possibilities  would  kill  the  game.  We  can't 
take  them  into  our  confidence  without  sounding  a 
warning  to  the  enemy." 

"Growing  sentimental?"  queried  Harrison  dryly, 
and  the  younger  man  shook  his  head. 

"No,"  he  responded  slowly,  "I  can't  afford  that — 
yet." 

"And  see  that  you  don't,"  admonished  the  chief 
sharply.  "Bear  in  mind,  as  you  have  in  the  past,  that 
we  don't  want  to  depend  on  men  of  brittle  resolution 
and  temperamental  squeamishness.  We  are  in  this 
thing  toward  a  definite  end  and  not  as  humanitarian 

dreamers.  However "  He  broke  off  abruptly 

and  added  in  a  milder  voice,  "I  don't  have  to  caution 
you.  You  understand  the  proposition." 

For  some  minutes  the  cigar  smoke  floated  in  a  silent 
room,  while  Martin  Harrison  sat  with  the  knitted 
brows  of  concentrated  thought.  Spurrier  did  not  in- 
terrupt the  mental  process  which  he  knew  had  the 
heat  and  power  of  an  ore  smelter,  reducing  to  fluid 
amenability  the  hard  metal  of  a  stubborn  proposition. 
He  knew,  too,  that  the  fuel  which  fed  the  fire  was  his 
principal's  animosity  against  Trabue,  rather  than  the 
possibilities  or  extent  of  the  loot.  This,  no  less  than 
the  mountain  vendetta,  was,  in  last  analysis,  a  per- 
sonal feud  and  in  the  parlance  of  the  Cumberlands  a 
"war  was  in  ther  b'ilin'." 

At  last  Harrison  straightened  up  and  tossed  away 
his  cigar. 

"You  are  ambitious,  Spurrier,"  he  said.     "Put  this 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    107 

thing  over  and  I  should  say  that  all  your  ambitions 
can  come  to  realization." 

While  he  sat  waiting  Spurrier  had  lifted  from  the 
table  a  photograph  of  Vivien,  appropriately  framed  in 
silver.  He  had  taken  it  up  idly  because  it  was  a  new 
portrait  and  one  that  he  had  not  before  seen,  but  into 
the  gesture  the  father  read  a  deeper  significance.  It 
was  as  if  Spurrier  had  asked  "All  my  ambitions?" 
and  had  emphasized  his  question  by  laying  his  hands 
on  the  picture  of  the  girl.  That,  thought  Harrison, 
was  an  audacious  suggestion,  but  it  was  Spurrier's 
audacity  that  recommended  him. 

Slowly  the  capitalist's  eyes  lighted  into  an  amused 
smile  as  their  glance  traveled  from  the  younger  face 
to  the  framed  photograph,  and  slowly  he  nodded  his 
head. 

"All  your  ambitions,"  he  repeated  meaningly,  then 
with  the  electric  snap  of  warning  in  his  voice  he  added 
an  admonition:  "But  don't  underestimate  the  diffi- 
culties of  your  undertaking.  You  are  bucking  the 
strongest  and  most  relentless  piracy  in  finance.  You 
will  incur  enmities  that  will  stop  nowhere,  and  you 
must  operate  in  a  country  where  murderers  are  for 
'hire/  " 

The  threat  of  personal  danger  just  at  that  moment 
disquieted  John  Spurrier  less  than  the  other  curtail- 
ment of  freedom  implied  in  Harrison's  words;  the 
tacit  acceptance  of  him  as  Vivien's  suitor.  It  came 
to  him  abruptly  that  he  did  not  love  Vivien;  that  he 
wished  to  remain  untrammeled.  Heretofore,  he  had 
always  postponed  matrimonial  thoughts  for  the  misty 
future.  Now  they  became  embarrassingly  near  and 
tangible. 


108    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

But  quick  on  this  realization  followed  another. 
Here  was  an  offered  alliance  of  tremendous  advantage 
and  one  not  to  be  ignored.  To  be  Vivien's  husband 
might  fail  of  rapture,  but  to  be  Martin  Harrison's 
son-in-law  meant  triumph.  It  meant  his  own  nom- 
ination as  heir  apparent  and  successor  in  that  position 
of  cardinal  importance  to  which  he  had  looked  upward 
as  to  a  throne. 

There  was  no  trace  of  dubiety  in  his  voice  as  he 
answered : 

"I  have  counted  the  handicaps,  sir.  I'm  taking  my 
chance  with  open  eyes." 


CHAPTER  IX 

SIM  Colby,  after  that  day  when  he  had  slipped 
through  the  laurel,  had  gone  back  to  his  own 
house  and  waited  for  the  talk  of  John  Spurrier's 
mysterious  death  to  drift  along  the  waterways  where 
news  is  the  only  speedy  traveler. 

There  had  been  no  such  gossip  and  he  had  dared 
betray  his  interest  by  no  inquiry,  but  he  knew  it  could 
have  only  one  meaning;  that  he  had  failed. 

Spurrier  was  alive,  and  obviously  he  was  holding 
his  counsel  concerning  his  narrow  escape.  This  silence 
seemed  to  Sim  Colby  an  ominous  thing  indicative  of 
some  crafty  purpose — as  if  the  intended  victim  were 
stalking  grimly  as  well  as  being  stalked.  Sim  came 
of  a  race  that  knows  how  to  bide  its  time  and  that  can 
keep  bright  the  edge  of  hatred  against  long-delayed 
reprisals.  It  was  certainly  to  be  presumed  that  Spur- 
rier had  taken  some  of  his  friends  into  his  confidence 
and  that  under  the  mantle  of  silence  over  on  Little 
Turkey  Tail,  these  friends  were  now  watchfully  alert. 
The  enterprise  that  had  once  failed  could  not  be  re- 
undertaken  at  once.  Sim  must  wait  for  the  vigilance 
to  "blow  over,"  and  while  he  waited  the  rancor  of 
his  hatred  must  fester  with  the  thorn-prickings  of  a 
thousand  doubts  and  apprehensions. 

Then  he  heard  one  day  that  Spurrier  had  left  the 
mountains,  and  on  another  day  the  news  was  brought 
that  the  g^and  jury  had  declined  to  reopen  the  old 

109 


210    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

issues  of  the  murder  case  in  which  Mosebury  had 
escaped  justice.  Both  these  things  were  comforting  in 
themselves,  but  they  failed  of  complete  reassurance 
for  the  deserter. 

Men  said  that  Spurrier  was  coming  back  again,  so 
the  day  of  reckoning  was  only  deferred — not  escaped. 

The  determination  with  which  Sim  had  set  out  on 
his  mission  of  death  had  largely  preempted  his  field  of 
thought.  Now,  after  weeks  and  months  of  brooding 
reflection,  he  himself  had  become  only  a  sort  of  human 
garment  worn  by  the  sinister  spirit  of  resolve. 

So  all  that  winter  while  John  Spurrier  was  away 
as  the  ambassador,  practicing  in  Moscow  and  Odessa 
the  adroit  arts  of  financial  diplomacy,  the  fixed  idea 
of  his  assassination  was  festering  in  the  mind  of  the 
man  who  lived,  under  an  assumed  name,  at  the  head 
of  Little  Quicksand. 

That  obsession  took  fantastic  shapes  and  wove 
webs  of  grotesque  patterns  of  hate  as  Colby,  who  had 
been  Grant,  sat  brooding  before  his  untidy  hearth 
while  the  winter  winds  wailed  about  the  eaves  and 
lashed  the  mountain  world  into  forlorn  bleakness. 

And  while  Colby  meditated  unendingly  on  the  ab- 
sentee and  built  ugly  plans  against  his  return,  so  in 
another  house  and  in  another  spirit,  the  ex-officer  was 
also  remembered. 

Winter  in  these  well-nigh  roadless  hills  meant  a 
blockade  and  a  siege  with  loneliness  and  stagnation 
as  the  impregnably  intrenched  attackers.  The  vic- 
tims could  only  wait  and  endure  until  the  rescue 
forces  of  spring  should  come  to  raise  the  chill  and 
sodden  barricade,  with  a  flaunting  of  blossom-ban- 
ners and  the  whispered  song  of  warm  victory. 


Glory  Cappeze,  for  the  first  time  in  her  life,  suf- 
fered from  loneliness.  She  had  thought  herself  too 
used  to  it  to  mind  it  much,  but  John  Spurrier  had 
brought  a  new  element  to  her  existence  and  left  be- 
hind him  a  void.  She  had  been  hardly  more  than 
an  onlooker  to  his  occasional  visits  with  her  father, 
but  she  had  been  a  very  interested  onlooker.  When 
he  talked  a  vigorous  mind  had  spoken  and  had 
brought  the  greater,  unknown,  outer  world  to  her 
door.  The  striking  face  with  its  square  jaw;  the  in- 
grained graces  and  courtesies  of  his  bearing;  the 
quickness  of  his  understanding — all  these  things  had 
been  a  light  in  the  gray  mediocrity  of  uneventful 
days  and  a  flame  that  had  fired  her  imagination  to  a 
splendid  disquiet. 

The  infectious  smile  and  force  of  personality  that 
had  been  a  challenge  to  more  critical  women,  had 
been  almost  dazzling  qualities  to  the  mountain  girl  of 
strangled  opportunities. 

But  it  was  that  last  meeting  in  which  he  had 
thawed  her  shyness  into  friendliness  that  Glory  re- 
membered most  eagerly.  That  had  seemed  to  make 
of  Spurrier  not  only  a  hero  admired  from  a  distance 
but  a  hero  who  was  also  a  friend,  and  she  was  hun- 
gry for  friends. 

So  it  came  to  pass  that  to  these  two  widely  variant 
welcomes,  neither  of  which  he  suspected,  John  Spur- 
rier was  returning  from  Russia  when  spring  had 
lightly  brushed  the  Cumberland  slopes  with  delicate 
fragrance  and  the  color  of  blossoming. 

In  Louisville,  in  Frankfort,  and  in  other  Kentucky 
towns  along  his  way  the  returning  man  had  made 
stops  and  investigations,  to  the  end  that  he  came 


112    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

primed  with  certain  information  of  an  ex-cathedra 
sort. 

The  fruits  of  this  research  included  an  abstract  of 
the  personnel  of  the  legislature  and  the  trend  of  oil 
influences  in  State  politics,  and  he  studied  his  note- 
book as  he  traveled  from  the  rolling,  almost  voluptu- 
ous fertility  of  the  bluegrass  section  to  the  piedmont 
where  the  foothills  began  to  break  the  sky. 

On  the  porch  of  the  dilapidated  hotel  at  Waterfall 
a  sparse  crowd  centered  about  a  seated  figure,  and 
when  he  had  reached  the  spot  Spurrier  paused,  chal- 
lenged by  a  sense  of  the  medieval,  that  gripped  him  as 
tangibly  as  a  hand  clapped  upon  his  shoulder. 

The  seated  man  was  blind  and  shabby,  with  a  beg- 
gar's cup  strapped  to  his  knee,  and  a  "fiddle"  nestling 
close  to  the  stubbled  chin  of  a  disfigured  face.  He 
sang  in  a  weird  falsetto,  with  minors  that  rose  thin 
and  dolorous,  but  he  was  in  every  essential  the  ballad 
singer  who  improvised  his  lays  upon  topical  themes, 
as  did  Scott's  last  minstrel — a  survival  of  antiquity. 

Now  he  was  whining  out  a  personal  plaint  in  the 
words  of  his  "song  ballet." 

"I  used  ter  hev  ther  sight  ter  see  ther  hills  so  high  an' 

green, 
I  used  ter  work  a  standard  rig  an'  drill  fer  kerosene." 

The  singer's  lugubrious  pathos  appeared  to  be  re- 
ceived with  attentive  and  uncritical  interest.  Beyond 
doubt  he  took  himself  seriously  and  sadly. 

"I  used  ter  know  a  woman's  love,  an'  read  a  woman's 

eyes, 
An'  look  into  my  baby's  face  an'  dwell  in  paradise, 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    113 

Until  a  comp'ny  foreman,  plum'  heedless  in  his  mind 
Let   nitroglycen?£tt   explode   an'    made  me   go   stone 
blind." 

Spurrier,  half-turning,  saw  a  traveling  salesman 
standing  at  his  elbow  with  a  repressed  grin  of  amuse- 
ment struggling  in  his  glance. 

"Queer  card,  that,"  whispered  the  drummer.  "I've 
seen  him  before ;  one  of  the  wrecks  left  over  from  the 
oil-boom  days.  A  'go-devil'  let  loose  too  soon  and 
blinded  him."  He  paused,  then  added  as  though  by 
•way  of  apology  for  his  seeming  callousness:  "Some 
people  say  the  old  boy  is  a  sort  of  a  miser  and  has  a 
snug  pile  salted  away." 

Spurrier  nodded  and  went  on  into  the  office,  but 
later  in  the  day  he  sought  out  the  blind  fiddler  and  en- 
gaged him  in  conversation.  The  man's  blinding  had 
left  him  a  legacy  of  hate  for  all  oil  operators,  and 
from  such  relics  as  this  of  the  active  days  Spurrier 
knew  how  to  evoke  scraps  of  available  information. 
It  was  not  until  later  that  it  occurred  to  him  that  he 
had  answered  questions  as  well  as  asked  them — but, 
of  course,  he  had  not  been  indiscreet. 

With  John  Spurrier,  riding  across  hills  afoam  with 
dogwood  blossom  and  tenderly  vivid  with  young 
green,  went  persistently  the  thought  of  the  blind  beg- 
gar who  seemed  almost  epic  in  his  symbolism  of 
human  wreckage  adrift  in  the  wake  of  the  boom.  Yet 
he  was  honest  enough  to  admit  inwardly  that  should 
victory  fall  to  his  banners  there  would  be  flotsam  in 
the  wake  of  his  triumph,  too;  simple  folk  despoiled 
of  their  birthright.  He  came  as  no  altruist  to  fight 


114    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

for  the  native  born.  He,  no  less  than  A.  O.  and  G., 
sought  to  exploit  them. 

When  he  went  to  the  house  of  Dyke  Cappeze  he  did 
not  admit  the  curiosity,  amounting  to  positive  anxiety, 
to  see  again  the  little  barbarian,  who  slurred  conson- 
ants, doubled  her  negatives,  split  her  infinitives  and 
retorted  in  the  Latin  of  Blackstone.  Yet  when  Glory 
did  not  at  once  appear,  he  found  himself  unaccount- 
ably disappointed. 

"There's  been  another  stranger  in  here  since  you 
went  away,"  the  old  man  smilingly  told  him.  "What 
is  he  doing  here?  That's  the  one  burning  question 
debated  along  the  highways  when  men  'meet  and  make 
their  manners.' ' 

"Well,"  laughed  Spurrier,  "what  is  he  doing  here?" 

Cappeze  shrugged  his  bent  shoulders  as  he  knocked 
the  rubble  from  his  pipe  and  a  quizzical  twinkle  came 
into  his  eyes. 

"So  far  as  I  can  make  out,  sir,  he's  as  much  a 
gentleman  of  leisure  as  you  are  yourself." 

Spurrier  knew  what  an  excellent  subterfuge  may 
sometimes  lie  in  frankness,  and  now  he  had  recourse 
to  its  concealment. 

"Good  heavens,  Mr.  Cappeze,  I'm  no  idler !"  he  de- 
clared. "I'm  associated  with  capitalists  who  work  me 
like  a  mule.  Since  I  saw  you,  for  example,  I've  been 
in  Russia  and  I've  been  hard-driven.  That's  why  I 
come  here.  If  I  couldn't  get  absolutely  away  from  it 
all  now  and  then,  I'd  soon  be  ready  for  a  madhouse. 
Here  I  can  forget  all  that  and  keep  fit." 

Cappeze  nodded.  "That's  just  about  the  way  I 
sized  you  up.  At  first,  folks  pondered  about  you,  too, 
but  now  they  take  you  on  faith." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    115 

"I  hope  so — and  this  new  man  ?  Has  he  stepped  on 
anybody's  toes?" 

"Not  yet.  He  hasn't  even  bought  any  land,  but 
there  have  been  some  several  transfers  of  property, 
in  other  names,  since  he  came.  He  may  be  some  man's 
silent  partner.'* 

"What  sort  of  partnership  would  it  be  ?" 

"God  knows."  For  an  instant  the  shrewd  eyes 
leaped  into  a  glint  of  feeling.  "These  poor  benighted 
devils  suspect  the  Greeks  bearing  gifts.  Civilization 
has  always  come  here  only  to  leave  its  scar.  They  have 
been  stung  once — over  oil.  God  pity  the  man  who 
seeks  to  sting  them  again." 

"You  think,"  Spurrier  responded  lightly,  as  one 
without  personal  interest,  "they  wouldn't  take  it 
kindly?" 

Once  again  the  sonorous  and  kindly  voice  mounted 
abruptly  to  vehemence. 

"As  kindly,  sir,  as  a  wolf  bitch  robbed,  the  second 
time,  of  her  whelps.  It's  all  a  wolf  bitch  has." 

That  evening  as  he  walked  slowly  homeward  with 
a  neighbor  whom  he  had  met  by  the  way,  Spurrier 
came  face  to  face  with  Wharton,  the  other  stranger, 
and  the  mountaineer  performed  the  offices  of  intro- 
duction. 

The  two  men  from  the  outer  world  eyed  each  other 
incuriously  and  parted  after  an  exchange  of  common- 
places. 

When  Spurrier  separated  from  his  chance  compan- 
ion, the  hillsman  drawled:  "Folks  says  thet  feller's 
buyin'  land.  God  knows  what  f  er  he  wants  hit,  but  ef 
he  does  hone  fer  hit,  hit's  kinderly  probable  thet  hit's 
wuth  holdin'  on  to." 


116    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

When  the  brook  trout  began  to  leap  and  flash  Cap- 
peze  delegated  Glory  to  act  for  him  as  Spurrier's 
guide,  and  as  the  girl  led  the  way  to  the  likeliest  pools, 
the  young,  straight-growing  trees  were  not  more 
gracefully  slender. 

The  fragrance  from  the  pink-hearted  laurel  and  the 
locust  bloom  had  no  delicacy  more  subtle  or  provoca- 
tive than  that  of  her  cheeks  and  hair.  The  breeze  in 
the  nodding  poplar  tops  seemed  scarcely  freer  or 
lighter  than  her  movements.  Like  the  season  she  was 
young  and  in  blossom  and  like  the  hills  she  was  wild 
of  beauty. 

Spurrier  admitted  to  himself  that,  were  he  free  to 
respond  to  the  pagan  and  vital  promptings  of  im- 
pulse, instead  of  standing  pledged  to  rigid  and  austere 
purposes,  this  girl  would  have  made  something  ring 
within  him  as  a  tuning  fork  rings  to  its  note. 

Since  the  days  of  Augusta  Beverly's  ascendency, 
he  had  never  felt  the  need  of  raising  any  sort  of  de- 
fense between  himself  and  a  woman.  At  first  he  had 
believed  himself,  with  youthful  resentment,  a  woman- 
hater  and  more  latterly  he  had  become  in  this,  as  in 
other  affairs,  an  expedientist.  Augusta  had  proven 
weak  in  loyalty,  under  stress,  and  Vivian  had  been 
indifferent  to  the  ostracism  of  his  former  comrades  so 
long  as  her  own  aristocracy  of  money  accepted  him. 
Both  had  been  snobs  in  a  sense,  and  in  a  sense  he  too 
was  a  snob. 

But  because  this  girl  was  of  a  simplicity  that  re- 
garded all  things  in  their  primary  colors  and  nothing 
in  the  shaded  half-tones  of  politer  usage,  it  was  need- 
ful to  guard  against  her  mistaking  his  proffered  com- 
radeship for  the  attitude  of  the  lover — and  that  would 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    117 

have  been  most  disastrous.  It  would  have  made  neces- 
sary awkward  explanations  that  would  wound  her, 
embarrass  him  and  arouse  the  old  man's  just  ire.  For 
people,  he  was  learning,  may  be  elementally  uncouth 
and  yet  prouder  than  Lucifer,  and  except  when  he 
was  here  on  their  own  ground  there  was  no  common 
meeting  place  between  their  standards  of  living. 

Yet  Glory's  presence  was  like  a  gypsy-song  to  his 
senses;  rich  and  lyrical  with  a  touch  of  the  plaintive. 
Glory,  he  knew,  would  have  believed  in  him  when 
Augusta  Beverly  had  doubted,  and  would  have  stood 
fast  when  Augusta  had  cut  loose. 

This  was  the  sort  of  thought  with  which  it  was 
dangerous  to  dally — and  perhaps  that  was  precisely 
why,  under  this  tuneful  sky,  it  pleased  him  to  humor 
it.  Certainly,  whatever  the  cause,  the  sight  of  her 
made  him  step  more  elastically  as  she  went  on  ahead. 

When  they  had  whipped  the  streams  for  trout  until 
hunger  clamored,  Spurrier  sat,  with  a  sandwich  in  his 
hand  in  grass  that  waved  knee-high,  and  through  half 
closed  lids  watched  Glory  as  she  moved  about  croon- 
ing an  old  ballad,  and  seemingly  unconscious  of  him- 
self, herself  and  all  but  the  sunlit  spirit  of  the  early 
summer  day. 

"Glory,"  he  said  suddenly,  calling  her  by  her  given 
name  for  the  first  time  and  in  a  mood  of  experiment. 

As  naturally  as  though  she  had  not  noted  his  lapsed 
formality,  she  turned  toward  him  and  answered  in 
kind. 

"What  air  hit,  Jack?" 

"Thank  you." 

"What  fer?" 

"For  calling  me  Jack." 


118    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Then  her  cheeks  colored  deeply  and  she  wheeled  to 
her  work  again.  But  after  a  little  she  faced  him  once 
more  to  say  half  angrily: 

"I  called  ye  Jack  because  ye  called  me  Glory. 
You've  always  put  a  Miss  afore  hit  till  now,  an'  I 
'lowed  ye'd  done  made  up  yore  mind  ter  be  friendly 
at  last." 

"I've  always  wanted  to  be  friendly,"  he  assured  her. 
"It  was  you  who  began  with  a  hickory  switch  and 
went  on  with  hard  words  in  Latin." 

The  girl  laughed,  and  the  peal  of  her  mirth  trans- 
muted their  status  and  dispelled  her  self-conscious- 
ness. She  came  over  and  stood  looking  down  at  him 
with  violet  eyes  mischievously  a-sparkle. 

"The  co'te,"  she  announced,  "hes  carefully  weighed 
there  evidence  in  ther  case  of  Jack  Spurrier,  charged 
with  ther  willful  murder  of  Bob  White,  and  is  ready 
to  enter  jedgment.  Jack  Spurrier,  stand  up  ter  be 
sentenced !" 

The  man  rose  to  his  feet  and  stood  with  such  well- 
feigned  abjectness  of  suspense  that  she  had  to  fight 
back  the  laughter  from  her  eyes  to  preserve  her  own 
pose  of  judicial  gravity. 

"It  is  well  established  by  the  evidence  befo'  there 
co'te,"  she  went  solemnly  on,  "thet  ther  defendant  is 
guilty  on  every  count  contained  in  the  indictment." 
She  checked  off  upon  the  fingers  of  the  left  hand  the 
roster  of  his  crime  as  she  summarized  it. 

"He  entered  inter  an  unlawful  conspiracy  with  the 
codefendant  Rover,  a  setter  dawg.  He  made  a  feloni- 
ous assault  without  provocation.  He  committed  mur- 
der in  the  first  degree  with  malice  prepense." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    119 

Spurrier's  head  sank  low  in  mock  despair,  until 
Glory  came  to  her  peroration  and  sentence. 

"Yet  since  the  defendant  is  amply  proved  to  be  a 
poor,  ignorant  wanderer  upon  the  face  of  the  earth, 
unpossessed  of  ordinary  knowledge,  the  court  is  con- 
strained to  hold  him  incapable  of  discrimination  be- 
tween right  an'  wrong.  Hence  he  is  not  fully  re- 
sponsible for  his  acts  of  violence.  Mercy  as  well  as 
justice  lies  in  the  province  of  the  law,  twins  of  a 
sacred  parentage  and  equal  before  the  throne." 

She  broke  off  in  a  laugh,  and  so  sudden  was  the 
transition  from  absolute  mimicry  that  the  man  forgot 
to  laugh  with  her. 

"Glory,"  he  demanded  somewhat  breathlessly,  "have 
you  ever  been  to  a  theater  in  your  life?  Have  you 
ever  seen  a  real  actress?" 

"No.     Why?" 

"Because  you  are  one.  Does  this  life  satisfy  you? 
Isn't  there  anything  off  there  beyond  the  hills  that 
ever  calls  you?" 

The  dancing  eyes  grew  abruptly  grave,  almost 
pained,  and  the  response  came  slowly. 

"Everything  down  thar  calls  ter  me.  I  craves  hit 
all!" 

Spurrier  suddenly  recalled  old  Cappeze's  half- 
f  rightened  vehemence  when  the  recluse  had  inveighed 
against  the  awakening  of  vain  longings  in  his  daughter. 
Now  he  changed  his  manner  as  he  asked : 

"I  wonder  if  I'd  offend  you  if  I  put  a  question. 
I  don't  want  to." 

"Ye  mout  try  an'  see.  I  ain't  got  no  power  ter 
answer  twell  I  hears  hit." 

"All  right.     I'll  risk  it.     Your  father  doesn't  talk 


120    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

mountain  dialect.  His  English  is  pure — and  you  were 
raised  close  to  him.  Why  do  you  use — the  other 
kind?" 

She  did  not  at  once  reply  and,  when  she  did,  the 
astonishingly  adaptable  creature  no  longer  employed 
vernacular,  though  she  spoke  slowly  and  guardedly  as 
one  might  who  ventured  into  a  foreign  tongue. 

"My  father  has  lived  down  below  as  well  as  here. 
He's  a  gentleman,  but  he  aims — I  mean  he  intends — 
to  live  here  now  till  he  dies." 

As  she  paused  Spurrier  prompted  her. 

"Yes— and  you?" 

"My  father  thinks  that  while  I  do  live  here,  I'd 
better  fit  into  the  life  and  talk  in  the  phrases  that  don't 
seem  high-falutin'  to  my  neighbors." 

"I  dare  say,"  he  assured  her  with  forced  convic- 
tion, "that  your  father  is  right." 

There  was  a  brief  silence  between  them  while  the 
warm  stillness  of  the  woods  breathed  its  incense  and 
its  langour,  then  the  girl  broke  out  impusively: 

"I  want  to  see  and  hear  and  taste  everything,  out 
there!" 

Her  hands  swept  outward  with  an  all-embracing 
gesture  toward  the  whole  of  the  unknown.  "There 
aren't  any  words  to  tell  how  I  want  it !  What  do  you 
want  more  than  anything  else,  Jack?" 

The  man  remained  silent  for  a  little,  studying  her 
under  half -lowered  lids  while  a  smile  hovered  at  the 
corners  of  his  lips.  But  the  smile  died  abruptly  and 
it  was  with  deep  seriousness  that  he  answered. 

"I  think,  more  than  anything  else,  I  want  a  clean 
name  and  a  vindicated  reputation." 

Glory's  eyes  widened  so  that  their  violet  depths  be- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    121 

came  pools  of  wondering  color  and  her  lips  parted  in 
surprise. 

"A  clean  name !"  she  echoed  incredulously.  "What 
blight  have  you  got  on  it,  Jack?"  Then  catching  her- 
self up  abruptly  she  flushed  crimson  and  said  apolo- 
getically: "That's  a  question  I  haven't  any  license  to 
put  to  you,  though.  Only  you  broached  the  subject 
yourself." 

"And  having  broached  it,  I  am  willing  to  pursue 
it,"  he  assured  her  evenly.  "I  was  an  army  officer 
until  I  was  charged  with  unprovoked  murder — and 
court-martialed;  dishonorably  discharged  from  the 
service  in  which  my  father  and  grandfather  had  lived 
and  died." 

For  a  moment  or  two  she  made  no  answer  but  her 
quick  expressiveness  of  lip  and  eye  did  not,  even  for 
a  startled  interval,  betray  any  shock  of  horror.  When 
she  did  speak  it  was  in  a  voice  so  soft  and  compassion- 
ate that  the  man  thought  of  its  quality  before  he 
realized  its  words. 

"Did  the  man  that — that  was  really  guilty  go  scot 
free,  whilst  you  had  to  shoulder  his  blame?" 

There  had  been  no  question  of  evidence;  no  wait- 
ing for  any  denial  of  guilt.  She  had  assumed  his  in- 
nocence with  the  same  certainty  that  her  eye  assumed 
the  flawlessness  of  the  overheard  blue.  Her  interest 
was  all  for  his  wronging  and  not  at  all  for  his  alleged 
wrong. 

The  man  started  with  surprise;  the  surprise  of  one 
who  had  trained  himself  into  an  unnatural  callousness 
as  a  defense  against  what  had  seemed  a  universal 
proneness  to  convict.  He  had  told  himself  that  Glory 
would  see  with  a  straighter  and  more  intuitive  eye. 


122    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

He  had  told  her  baldly  of  the  thing  which  he  seldom 
mentioned  out  of  an  inquisitiveness  to  test  her  reac- 
tion to  the  revelation,  but  he  was  unprepared  for  such 
unhesitant  belief. 

"I  think  you  are  the  first  human  being,  Glory,"  he 
said  quietly  but  with  unaccustomed  feeling  in  his 
voice,  "who  ever  heard  that  much  and  gave  me  a 
clean  bill  of  health  without  hearing  a  good  bit  more. 
Why  didn't  you  ask  whether  or  not  I  was  guilty?" 

"I  didn't  have  to,"  she  said  slowly.  "Some  men 
could  be  murderers  and  some  couldn't.  You  couldn't. 
You  might  have  to  kill  a  man — but  not  murder  him. 
You  might  do  lots  of  things  that  wouldn't  be  right. 
I  don't  know  about  that — but  those  people  that  con- 
victed you  were  fools!" 

"Thank  you,"  he  said  soberly.  "You're  right, 
Glory.  I  was  as  innocent  of  that  assassination  as  you 
are,  yet  they  proved  me  guilty.  It  was  only  through 
influence  that  I  escaped  ending  my  days  in  prison." 

Then  he  gave  her  the  story,  which  he  had  already 
told  her  father  and  no  one  else  in  the  mountains.  She 
listened,  thinking  not  at  all  of  the  damaging  circum- 
stances, but  secretly  triumphant  that  she  had  been 
chosen  as  a  confidant. 

But  that  night  Spurrier  looked  up  from  a  letter  he 
was  reading  and  let  his  eyes  wander  to  the  rafters  and 
his  thoughts  to  the  trout  stream. 

It  was  a  letter,  too,  which  should  have  held  his  at- 
tention. It  contained,  on  a  separate  sheet  of  paper,  a 
list  of  names  which  was  typed  and  headed:  "Confi- 
dential Memorandum."  Below  that  appeared  the 
notation:  "Members  of  the  general  assembly,  under 
American  Oil  and  Gas  influence.  Also  names  of  can- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    123 

didates  who  oppose  them  at  the  next  election,  and  who 
may  be  reached  by  us." 

Spurrier  lighted  his  pipe  and  his  face  became  studi- 
ous, but  presently  he  looked  up  frowning. 

"I  must  speak  to  old  Cappeze,"  he  said  aloud  and 
musingly.  "He's  being  unfair  to  her."  And  that  did 
not  seem  a  relevant  comment  upon  the  paper  he  held 
in  his  hand. 

Then  Spurrier  started  a  little  as  from  outside  a 
human  voice  sounded  above  the  chorus  of  the  frogs 
and  whippoorwills. 

"Hallo,"  it  sung  out.  "Hit's  Blind  Joe  Givins.  Kin 
I  come  in?" 

A1  few  minutes  later  into  the  lamplight  of  the  room 
shambled  the  beggar  of  the  disfigured  face,  whom 
Spurrier  had  last  seen  at  the  town  of  Waterfall,  led  by 
a  small,  brattish  boy.  His  violin  case  was  tightly 
grasped  under  his  arm,  and  his  free  hand  was  groping. 

"I'd  done  sot  out  ter  visit  a  kinsman  over  at  ther 
head  of  Big  Wolfpen  branch,"  explained  the  blind 
man,  "but  ther  boy  hyar's  got  a  stone  bruise  on  his  heel 
an'  he  kain't  handily  go  on,  ter-night.  We  wonder 
could  we  sleep  hyar?" 

Spurrier  bowed  to  the  law  of  the  mountains,  which 
does  not  deny  shelter  to  the  wayfarer,  but  he  shivered 
fastidiously  at  the  unkempt  raggedness  of  his  tramp- 
like  visitor,  and  he  slipped  into  his  pocket  the  papers 
in  his  hand. 

That  night  before  Spurrier's  hearth,  as  in  elder 
times  before  the  roaring  logs  of  some  feudal  castle, 
the  wandering  minstrel  paid  his  board  with  song  and 
music;  his  voice  rising  high  and  tremulous  in  quaint 
tales  set  to  measure. 


124    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

But  on  the  next  morning  the  boy  set  out  on  some 
mission  in  the  neighborhood  and  left  his  charge  to 
await  his  return,  seated  in  a  low  chair,  and  gazing 
emptily  ahead. 

Spurrier  went  out  to  the  road  in  response  to  the 
shout  of  a  passing  neighbor,  and  left  his  papers  lying 
on  the  table  top,  forgetful  of  the  presence  of  the  sight- 
less guest,  who  sat  so  negligibly  quiet  in  the  chimney 
corner. 

When  he  entered  the  room  again  the  blind  man  had 
risen  from  his  seat  and  moved  across  to  the  hearth. 
On  the  threshold  the  householder  halted  and  stood 
keenly  eyeing  him  while  he  groped  along  the  mantel 
shelf  as  if  searching  with  wavering  fingers  for  some- 
thing that  his  eyes  could  not  discover — and  the  thought 
of  the  papers  which  he  had  left  exposed  caused  an 
uneasy  suspicion  to  dart  into  Spurrier's  mind.  Any 
eye  that  fell  on  that  list  would  have  gained  the  key 
to  his  whole  strategy  and  intent,  but,  of  course,  this 
man  could  not  see.  Still  Spurrier  cursed  himself  for 
a  careless  fool." 

"I  was  jest  seekin'  fer  a  match,"  said  Joe  Givins  as 
a  slight  sound  from  the  other  attracted  his  attention. 
"I  aimed  ter  smoke  for  a  leetle  spell." 

The  host  struck  a  match  and  held  it  while  the 
broken  guest  kindled  his  pipe,  then  he  hurriedly 
glanced  through  his  papers  to  assure  himself  that 
nothing  had  been  disturbed — and  though  each  sheet 
seemed  as  he  had  left  it,  the  uneasiness  in  Spurrier's 
mind  refused  to  be  stilled. 

Presumably  this  bat-blind  ragamuffin  was  no  greater 
menace  to  the  secrecy  of  his  plans  than  a  bat  itself 
would  have  been,  yet  a  glimpse  of  this  letter  would 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    125 

have  been  so  fatal  that  he  asked  himself  anxiously, 
"How  do  I  know  he's  not  faking?"  The  far-fetched 
apprehension  gathered  weight  like  a  snowslide  until 
suddenly  out  of  it  was  born  a  grim  determination. 

He  would  make  a  test. 

Noiselessly,  while  the  ugly  face  that  had  been 
mutilated  by  a  blasting  charge  gazed  straight  and 
sightlessly  at  him,  Spurrier  opened  the  table  drawer 
and  took  from  it  a  heavy  calibered  automatic  pistol. 
It  was  a  deadly  looking  thing  and  it  needed  no  cock- 
ing; only  the  silent  slipping  forward  of  a  safety  catch. 
In  this  experiment  Spurrier  must  not  startle  his  guest 
by  any  ominous  sound,  but  he  must  satisfy  himself 
that  his  sight  was  genuinely  dead. 

"I  thought,"  said  the  host  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice 
as  he  searchingly  studied  the  other  face  through  nar- 
rowed lids,  "that  when  sight  went,  the  enjoyment  of 
tobacco  went  with  it."  As  he  spoke  he  raised  and 
leveled  the  cocked  pistol  until  its  muzzle  was  pointed 
full  into  the  staring  face.  Deliberately  he  set  his  own 
features  into  the  baleful  stamp  of  deadly  threat,  until 
his  expression  was  as  wicked  and  ugly  as  a  gargoyle 
of  hatred. 

If  the  man  were  by  any  possibility  shamming  it 
would  take  cold  nerve  to  sit  there  without  any  hint 
of  confession  as  this  unwarned  demonstration  was 
made  against  him — a  demonstration  that  seemed 
genuine  and  murderous.  For  an  instant  Spurrier 
fancied  that  he  heard  the  breath  rasp  in  the  other's 
throat,  but  that,  he  realized,  must  have  been  fancy. 
The  face  itself  altered  no  line  of  expression,  flickered 
no  eyelid.  It  remained  as  it  had  been,  stolid  and 


126    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

blank,  so  that  the  man  with  the  pistol  felt  ashamed  of 
his  suspicion. 

But  Spurrier  rose  and  leaned  across  the  table  slowly 
advancing  the  muzzle  until  it  almost  touched  the 
bridge  of  the  nose,  just  between  the  eyes  he  was  so 
severely  testing.  Still  no  hint  of  realization  came 
from  the  threatened  guest.  Then  the  voice  of  the 
blind  man  sounded  phlegmatically : 

"That's  what  folks  say  erbout  terbaccy  an'  blind 
men — but,  by  crickety,  hit  ain't  so." 

John  Spurrier  withdrew  his  pistol  and  put  it  back 
in  the  drawer. 

"I  guess,"  he  said  to  himself,  "he  didn't  read  my 
letters." 


CHAPTER  X 

ACROSS   a  tree-shaded  public   square  from  the 

r\     courthouse  and   "jail  house"  at  Carnettsville 

stood  a  building  that  wore  the  dejected  guise 

of  uncomforted  old  age,  and  among  the  business  signs 

nailed  about  its  entrance  was  the  shingle  bearing  the 

name  of  "Creed  Faggott,  Atty.  at  Law." 

The  way  to  this  oracle's  sanctum  lay  up  a  creaking 
stairway,  and  on  a  brilliant  summer  day  not  long  after 
Spurrier  had  entertained  his  blind  guest  it  was  climbed 
by  that  guest  in  person,  led  by  the  impish  boy  whose 
young  mouth  was  stained  with  chewing-tobacco. 

This  precocious  child  opened  the  door  and  led  his 
charge  in  and,  from  a  deal  table,  Creed  Faggott  re- 
moved his  broganned  feet  and  turned  sly  eyes  upon 
the  visitors,  out  of  a  cadaverous  and  furtive  face. 

**You  don't  let  no  grass  grow  under  your  feet,  do 
you,  Joe?"  inquired  the  lawyer  shortly.  "When  the 
day  rolls  round,  you  show  up  without  default  or  mis- 
carriage." He  paused  as  the  boy  led  the  blind  man  to 
a  chair  and  then  facetiously  capped  his  interrogation. 
"I  reckon  I  don't  err  in  surmisin'  that  you've  come  to 
collect  your  pension?" 

The  blind  man  gazed  vacantly  ahead.  "Who, 
me?"  he  inquired  with  half-witted  dullness. 

"Yes,  you.    Who  else  would  I  mean?" 

"Hit's  due,  ain't  hit — my  money?" 

"Due  at  noon  to-day  and  noon  is  still  ten  minutes 
127 


128    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

off.  I'm  not  sure  the  company  didn't  make  a  mis- 
take in  allowing  you  such  a  generous  compensation  for 
your  accident."  There  was  a  pause,  then  Faggott 
added  argumentatively :  "Your  damage  suit  would 
have  come  to  naught,  most  likely." 

"Thet  ain't  ther  way  ye  talked  when  I  lawed  ther 
comp'ny,"  whined  the  blind  man.  "Ye  'peared  to  be 
right  ambitious  ter  settle  outen  co'te  in  them  days,  Mr. 
Faggott." 

"The  company  didn't  want  the  thing  hanging  on. 

They  got  eold  feet.    Well,  I'll  give  you  your  check." 

"I'd  ruther  have  hit  in  cash  money — silver  money," 

stipulated  the  recipient  of  the  compromise  settlement. 

"I  kin  count  thet  over  by  ther  feel  of  hit." 

Faggott  snorted  his  disgust  but  he  deposited  in  the 
outstretched  palm  the  amount  that  fell  due  on  each 
quarterly  pay  day,  and  the  visitor  thumbed  over  every 
coin  and  tested  the  edges  of  all  with  his  teeth.  After 
that,  instead  of  rising  to  go,  he  sat  silently  reflective. 

"That's  all,  ain't  it,"  demanded  the  attorney,  and 
something  like  a  pallid  grin  lifted  the  lip  corners  in  the 
blind  man's  ugly  face. 

"Not  quite  all,"  replied  Joe  Givins  as  he  shook  his 
head.  "No,  thar's  one  other  leetle  matter  yit.  I'd  love 
ter  hev  ye  write  me  a  letter  ter  ther  comp'ny's  boss- 
man  in  Looeyville.  I  kinderly  aims  ter  go  thar  an' 
see  him." 

This  time  it  was  the  attorney  who,  with  an  in- 
credulity-freighted voice,  demanded :  "Who,  you  ?" 

"Yes,  sir.     Me." 

"The  Louisville  manager,"  announced  Faggott 
loftily,  "is  a  man  of  affairs.  The  company  conducts 
its  business  here  through  its  local  counsel — that's  me." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    129 

"Nevertheless  an'  notwithstanding  I  reckon  hit'll 
kinderly  pleasure  ther  boss-man  ter  talk  ter  me — when 
he  hears  what  I've  got  ter  tell  him." 

A  light  of  greed  quickened  in  the  shyster's  narrow 
eyes.  It  was  possible  that  Blind  Joe  had  come  by  some 
scrap  of  salable  information.  It  had  been  stipulated 
when  his  damage  suit  was  settled,  that  he  should,  para- 
doxically speaking,  keep  his  blind  eyes  open. 

"See  here,  Joe,"  the  attorney,  no  longer  condescend- 
ing of  bearing,  spoke  now  with  a  wheedling  insistence, 
"if  you've  got  any  tidings,  tell  'em  to  me.  I'm  your 
friend  and  I  can  get  the  matter  before  the  parties  that 
hold  the  purse  strings." 

Joe  Givins  stretched  out  a  wavering  hand  and  groped 
before  him.  "Lead  me  on  outen  hyar,  boy,"  he  gave 
laconic  command  to  his  youthful  varlet.  "I'm  tarryin* 
overlong  an'  wastin'  daylight." 

"What's  daylight  to  you,  Joe?"  snapped  Faggott 
brutally,  but  recognizing  his  mistake  he,  at  once, 
softened  his  manner  to  a  mollifying  tone.  "Set  still 
a  spell  an'  let's  have  speech  tergether — an'  a  little 
dram  of  licker." 

Ten  minutes  of  nimble-witted  fencing  ensued  be- 
tween the  two  sons  of  avarice,  and  at  their  end  the 
blind  man  stumped  out,  carrying  in  his  breast  pocket 
a  note  of  introduction  to  a  business  man  in  Louisville 
— whose  real  business  was  lobbying  and  directing  un- 
derground investigations — but  the  lawyer  was  no  wiser 
than  he  had  been. 

And  when  eventually  from  the  murky  lobby  of  the 
Farmers'  Haven  Hotel,  which  sits  between  distillery 
warehouses  in  Louisville,  the  shabby  mountaineer  was 


130    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

led  to  the  office  building  he  sought,  he  was  received 
while  more  presentable  beings  waited  in  an  anteroom. 

It  chanced  that  on  the  same  day  John  Spurrier 
spoke  to  Dyke  Cappeze  of  Glory. 

"When  we  went  fishing,"  he  said,  "I  asked  her 
whether  she  never  felt  a  curiosity  for  the  things  be- 
yond the  ridges — and  her  eagerness  startled  me." 

An  abrupt  seriousness  overspread  the  older  face  and 
the  answering  voice  was  sternly  pitched. 

"I  should  be  profoundly  distressed,  sir,"  said  Cap- 
peze, "to  have  discontent  brought  home  to  her.  I 
should  resent  it  as  unfriendly  and  disloyal." 

"And  yet,"  Spurrier's  own  voice  was  quickened 
into  a  more  argumentative  timber,  "she  has  a  splendid 
vitality  that  it's  a  pity  to  crush." 

"She  has,"  came  the  swift  retort,  "a  contented  heart 
which  it's  a  pity  to  unsettle." 

The  elder  eyes  hardened  and  looked  out  over  the 
wall  of  obstinacy  that  had  immured  Dyke  Cappeze's 
life,  but  his  words  quivered  to  a  tremor  of  deep 
feeling. 

"I've  given  her  an  education  of  sorts.  She  knows 
more  law  than  some  judges,  and  if  she's  ignorant  of 
the  world  of  to-day  she's  got  a  bowing  acquaintance 
with  the  classics.  I'm  not  wholly  selfish.  If  there  was 
some  one — down  below  that  I  could  send  her  to — some 
one  who  would  love  her  enough  because  she  needs  to 
be  loved — I'd  stay  here  alone,  and  willingly,  despite 
the  fact  that  it  would  well-nigh  kill  me."  He  paused 
there  and  his  eyes  were  broodingly  somber,  then 
almost  fiercely  he  went  on:  "I  would  trust  her  in  no 
society  where  she  might  be  affronted  or  belittled.  I 
would  rather  see  her  live  and  die  here,  talking  the 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    131 

honest,  old  crudities  of  the  pioneers,  than  have  her 
venture  into  a  life  where  she  could  not  make  her  own 
terms." 

"Perhaps  she  could  make  her  own  terms,"  hazarded 
Spurrier,  and  the  other  snapped  his  head  up  in- 
dignantly. 

"Perhaps — yes — and  perhaps  not.  You  yourself 
are  a  man  of  the  world,  sir.  What  would — one  of 
your  own  sort — have  to  offer  her  out  there?" 

Under  that  challenging  gaze  the  man  from  the  East 
found  himself  flushing.  It  was  almost  as  though  under 
the  hypothetical  form  of  the  question,  the  father  had 
bluntly  warned  him  off  from  any  interference  unless 
he  came  as  an  avowed  suitor.  He  had  no  answer  and 
again  the  lawyer  spoke  with  the  compelling  force  of 
an  ultimatum. 

"She  must  stay  here  with  me,  who  would  die  for 
her,  until  she  goes  to  some  man  who  offers  her  every- 
thing he  has  to  offer;  some  man  who  would  die  for 
her,  too."  His  voice  had  fallen  into  tenderness,  but  a 
stern  ring  went  with  his  final  words.  "Meanwhile, 
I  stand  guard  over  her  like  a  faithful  dog.  I  may  be 
old  and  scarred  but,  by  God,  sir,  I  am  vigilant  and 
devoted !"  He  waved  his  thin  hand  with  a  gesture  of 
dismissal  for  a  closed  subject,  and  in  a  changed  tone 
added : 

"I've  recently  heard  of  two  other  travelers  riding 
through — and  they  have  taken  up  several  land  options." 

"What  meaning  do  you  read  into  it,  Mr.  Cappeze  ?" 

The  lawyer  shrugged  his  shoulders.  If  he  had  no 
explanation  to  offer,  it  was  plain  that  he  did  not  regard 
the  coming  of  the  strangers  as  meaningless. 

"I'm  going,"   said  Spurrier  casually,   "to  make  a 


trip  up  Snake  Fork  to  the  head  of  Little  Quicksand. 
Is  there  any  one  up  there  I  can  call  on  for  lodging 
and  information?" 

The  lawyer  shook  his  head.  "It's  a  mighty  rough 
country  and  sparsely  settled.  You'll  find  a  lavish  of 
rattlesnakes — and  a  few  unlettered  humans.  There's 
a  fellow  up  there  named  Sim  Colby  who  might  shelter 
you  overnight.  He  lives  by  himself,  and  has  a  roof 
that  sheds  the  rain.  It's  about  all  you  can  ask." 

"It's  enough,"  smiled  Spurrier,  and  a  few  days  later 
he  found  himself  climbing  a  stiff  ascent  toward  a  point 
where  over  the  tree-tops  a  thread  of  smoke  proclaimed 
a  human  habitation. 

He  was  coming  unannounced  to  the  house  of  Sim 
Colby,  but  if  he  had  expected  his  visit  to  be  an  entire 
surprise  he  was  mistaken,  and  if  he  had  known  the 
agitation  that  went  a  little  way  ahead  of  him,  he  would 
have  made  a  wide  detour  and  passed  the  place  by. 

Sim  was  hoeing  in  his  steeply  pitched  field  when  he 
saw  and  recognized  the  figure  which  was  yet  a  half- 
hour's  walk  distant,  by  the  meanderings  of  the  trail. 
The  hoe  fell  from  his  hand  and  his  posture  stiffened  so 
inimically  that  the  hound  at  his  feet  rose  and  bristled, 
a  low  growl  running  half  smothered  in  its  throat. 

Doubtless,  Colby  reasoned,  Spurrier  was  coming  to 
his  lonely  house  with  a  purpose  of  venom  and  punish- 
ment, yet  he  walked  boldly  and  to  the  outward  glance 
he  seemed  unarmed.  Hence  it  must  be  that  in  the 
former  army  officer's  plan  lay  some  intent  more  com- 
plex than  mere  open-and-shut  meeting  and  slaying: 
some  carefully  planned  and  guileful  climax  to  be  ap- 
proached by  indirection.  Very  well,  he  would  also 
play  the  game  out,  burying  his  suspicion  under  a  guise 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    133 

of  artlessness,  but  watching  every  move — and  when 
the  moment  came  striking  first. 

At  a  brook,  as  he  hastened  toward  his  house  by  a 
short  cut,  he  knelt  to  drink,  for  his  throat  was 
damnably  dry,  and  in  the  clear  water  the  pasty  pallor 
and  terror  of  his  face  was  given  back  to  him,  and 
warned  him.  But  also  the  mirroring  brought  another 
thought  and  the  thought  fathered  swift  action.  In  the 
army  he  had  been  spare  and  clean-shaven  and  a  scar 
had  marked  his  chin.  Now  he  was  bearded.  He 
carried  a  beefier  bulk  and  an  altered  appearance. 

Could  there  be  any  possibility  of  Spurrier's  failing 
to  recognize  him — of  his  having  been,  after  all,  igno- 
rant of  his  presence  here? 

Yet  his  eyes  would  be  recognizable.  They  were  ar- 
restingly  distinctive,  for  one  of  them  was  pale-blue 
and  the  other  noticeably  grayish. 

By  the  path  he  was  following,  stalks  of  Jimson  weed 
grew  rank,  and  Sim,  rising  from  his  knees,  pulled  off 
a  handful  of  leaves  and  crushed  them  between  his 
palms.  When  he  had  reached  the  house  his  first  action 
was  to  force  from  this  bruised  leafage  a  few  drops  of 
liquid  into  a  saucer  and  this  juice  he  carefully  injected 
into  his  eyes. 

Then  he  went  to  the  door  and  squinted  up  at  the 
sun.  It  would  be  fifteen  minutes  before  Spurrier 
would  arrive  and  fifteen  minutes  might  be  enough. 
He  half  closed  his  eyes,  because  they  were  stinging 
painfully,  and  sat  waiting,  to  all  appearances  indolent 
and  thoughtless. 

Spurrier  plodded  on,  measuring  the  distance  to  the 
smoke  thread  until  he  came  in  view  of  the  cabin 


134    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

itself,  then  he  approached  slowly  since  the  stiff  climb 
had  winded  him. 

Now  he  could  see  the  shingle  roof  and  the  log  walls, 
trailed  over  with  morning-glory  vines,  and  in  the  door 
the  slouching  figure  of  a  man.  He  came  on  an(f  the 
native  rose  lazily. 

"My  name's  John  Spurrier/*  called  out  the  traveler, 
"and  Lawyer  Cappeze  cited  you  to  me  as  a  man  who 
might  shelter  me  overnight." 

The  man  who  had  deserted  chewed  nonchalantly 
on  a  grass  straw  and  regarded  the  other  incuriously — 
which  was  a  master  bit  of  dissembling.  Between 
them,  it  seemed  to  Sim  Colby  who  had  once  been 
Private  Grant,  lay  the  body  of  a  murdered  captain. 
Between  them,  too,  lay  the  guilt  of  his  assassination. 
To  the  Easterner's  appraisal  this  heavy-set  moun- 
taineer with  unkempt  hair  and  ragged  beard  was 
merely  a  local  type  and  yet  in  one  respect  he  was  un- 
forgettable. 

It  was  his  eyes.  They  were  arrestingly  uncommon 
eyes  and,  once  seen,  they  must  be  remembered.  What 
was  the  quality  that  made  one  notice  them  so  instantly, 
Spurrier  questioned  himself.  Then  he  realized. 

They  were  inkily  black  eyes,  but  that  was  not  all. 
There  seemed  to  be  in  them  no  line  of  demarcation 
between  iris  and  pupil — only  liquid  pools  of  jet. 

The  two  men  sat  there  as  the  shadows  lengthened 
and  talked  "plumb  friendly"  as  Colby  later  admitted 
to  himself.  They  smoked  Spurrier's  "fotched-on" 
tobacco  and  drank  native  distillation  from  the  demi- 
john that  Colby  took  down  from  its  place  on  a  rafter. 
Yet  the  host  was  filling  each  tranquilly  flowing 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    135 

minute  with  the  intensive  planning  of  a  hospitality  that 
was,  like  Macbeth's,  to  end  in  murder. 

Spurrier  would  sleep  in  an  alcovelike  room  which 
could  be  locked  from  the  outside.  Back  through  the 
brush  was  a  spot  of  quicksand  where  a  body  would 
leave  no  trace.  One  thing  only  troubled  the  planning 
brain.  He  wished  he  could  learn  just  who  knew  of 
his  guest's  coming  here;  just  what  precautions  that 
guest  had  taken  before  embarking  on  such  a  venture. 

From  outside  came  a  shout,  interrupting  these  re- 
flections, and  Sim  was  at  once  on  his  feet  facing  the 
front  door,  with  a  surreptitious  hand  inside  his  shirt, 
and  one  eye  covertly  watching  Spurrier,  even  as  he 
looked  out.  A  snarl,  too,  drew  his  lips  into  an  un- 
pleasant twist. 

The  Easterner  put  down  to  mountain  caution  the 
amazing  swiftness  with  which  the  other  had  come 
from  his  hulking  proneness  to  upstanding  alertness. 
But  with  equal  rapidity,  Sim's  pose  relaxed  into  ease 
and  he  shouted  a  welcome  as  the  door  darkened  with 
a  figure  physically  splendid  in  its  spare  strength  and 
commanding  height. 

Spurrier  rose  and  found  himself  looking  into  a  face 
with  most  engaging  eyes  and  teeth  that  flashed  white 
in  smiling. 

For  a  moment  as  the  newcomer  gazed  at  Sim  Colby 
his  expression  mirrored  some  sort  of  surprise  and 
his  lips  moved  as  if  to  speak,  but  Spurrier  could  not 
see,  because  Colby's  back  was  turned,  the  warning 
glance  that  shot  between  the  two,  and  the  big  fellow's 
lips  closed  again  without  giving  utterance  to  whatever 
he  had  been  on  the  point  of  saying — something  to 
do  with  eyes  that  had  mystifyingly  changed  their  color. 


136    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"Mister  Spurrier,  this  hyar's  Sam  Mosebury,"  an- 
nounced the  host.  "Mebby  ye  mout  of  heered  tell  of 
him." 

Spurrier  nodded.  So  this  was  the  outlaw  against 
whose  terrorism  old  Cappeze  had  broken  his  Quixote 
lances,  the  windmill  that  had  unhorsed  him;  the  man 
with  a  criminal  record  at  which  a  wild  region  trembled. 

"I've  heered  tell  of  Mr.  Spurrier,  too,"  vouchsafed 
the  murderer  equably.  "He's  a  friend  of  old  Dyke 
Cappeze's." 

The  "furriner"  made  no  denial.  Though  he  had 
been  sitting  with  his  head  in  the  jaws  of  death  ever 
since  he  entered  this  door,  it  had  been  without  any 
presentiment  of  danger.  Now  he  felt  the  menace  of 
this  terrorist's  presence,  and  that  menace  was  totally 
fictitious. 

"Mr.  Cappeze  has  befriended  me,"  he  answered 
stiffly.  "I  reckon  that's  not  a  recommendation  to  you, 
is  it?" 

The  man  who  had  newly  entered  laughed.  He  drew 
a  chair  forward  and  seated  himself. 

"I  reckon,  Mr.  Spurrier,  hit  ain't  none  of  my  busi- 
ness one  way  ner  t'other,"  he  said.  "Anyhow,  hit 
ain't  no  reason  why  you  an'  me  kain't  be  friends, 
is  hit?" 

"It  doesn't  make  any  difficulty  with  me,"  laughed 
Spurrier  in  relief,  "if  it  doesn't  with  you." 

Sam  Mosebury  looked  at  him,  then  his  voice  came 
with  a  dry  chuckle  of  humor. 

"Over  at  my  dwellin'  house,"  he  announced  with  a 
pleasant  drawl,  "I've  got  me  a  pet  mockin'-bird — an' 
I've  got  me  a  pet  cat,  too.  Ther  three  of  us  meks  up 
ther  fam'ly  over  thar." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    137 

Spurrier  looked  at  the  strong-featured  face  as  he 
prompted,  "Yes?" 

"Waal,"  Sam  Mosebury  waved  his  hand,  and  even 
his  gestures  had  a  spacious  bigness  about  them,  "ef 
God  Almighty  didn't  see  fit  fer  thet  thar  bird  an'  thet 
thar  cat  ter  love  one  another — I  don't  seek  ter  alter 
His  plan.  Nonetheless  I  sets  a  passel  of  store  by  both 
of  'em."  He  filled  his  pipe,  then  his  words  became 
musing,  possibly  allegorical.  "Mebby  some  day  I'll 
reelax  a  leetle  mite  too  much  in  watchin'  an'  then  I 
reckon  ther  cat'll  kill  ther  bird — but  thet's  accordin' 
ter  nature,  too,  an'  deespite  I'll  grieve  some,  I  won't 
disgust  ther  cat  none." 

That  night  Spurrier  lay  on  the  same  shuck-filled 
mattress  with  the  man  whom  the  law  had  not  been 
strong  enough  to  hang,  and  for  a  while  he  remained 
wakeful,  reflecting  on  the  strangeness  of  his  bed- 
fellowship. 

But,  had  he  known  it,  his  life  was  saved  that  night 
because  the  murderer  had  arrived  and  provided  an 
interfering  presence  when  the  plans  on  foot  required 
solitude. 


CHAPTER  XI 

PERHAPS  old  Cappeze  had  spoken  too  late  when 
he  sounded  his  sharp  warning  to  the  newcomer 
against  unsettling  the  simple  contentment  of  his 
daughter's  mind.  Always  realizing  his  transient  status 
in  the  aloofness  of  this  life,  Spurrier  had  scrupu- 
lously guarded  his  contact  with  the  girl  who  belonged 
to  it  and  who  had  no  prospect  of  escaping  it.  He  had 
sought  to  behave  to  her  as  he  might  have  behaved  to 
a  child,  with  grave  or  gay  friendliness  untouched  by 
those  gallantries  that  might  have  been  misunderstood, 
yet  treating  her  intelligence  with  full  and  adult 
equality. 

But  his  inclination  to  see  more  of  her  than  formerly 
was  one  that  he  indulged  because  it  gave  him  pleasure 
and  because  a  failure  to  do  so  would  have  had  the 
aspect  of  churlishness. 

Those  self-confessed  traces  of  snobbery  that  ad- 
hered to  this  courtier  at  the  throne  of  wealth,  were  at- 
tributes of  which  the  girl  saw  nothing.  Neither  did 
she  see  the  shell  of  cynicism  which  Spurrier  had  culti- 
vated and  this  was  not  because  her  insight  failed  of 
keenness,  but  because  in  these  surroundings  they  were 
dormant  qualities. 

The  self  that  he  displayed  here  was  the  self  of  the 
infectious  smile,  of  the  frank  boldness  and  good 
humor  that  had  made  him  beloved  among  his  army 

138 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    139 

mess-mates  before  these  more  gracious  qualities  had 
been  winter-killed  by  misfortune. 

So  he  was  the  picturesque  and  charming  version  of 
himself,  and  he  became  to  Glory  an  object  of  hero 
worship,  whose  presence  made  the  day  eventful  and 
whose  intervals  of  absence  were  filled  with  dreams  of 
his  next  coming. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  John  Spurrier,  the  "op- 
portunity hound,"  made  a  disquieting  discovery.  It 
came  upon  him  one  night  as  he  sat  on  the  porch  of 
Dyke  Cappeze's  log  house  at  twilight,  with  pipes  glow- 
ing and  seductive  influences  stealing  into  the  senses. 
Daylight  color  had  faded  to  the  mistiness  of  tarnished 
silver  except  for  a  lemon  after-glow  above  western 
ridges  that  were  violet-gray,  and  the  evening  star  was 
a  single  lantern  hanging  softly  luminous,  where  scon 
there  would  be  many  others. 

Cadenced  and  melodious  as  a  lullaby  fraught  with 
the  magic  of  the  solitudes,  the  night  song  of  frog  and 
whippoorwill  rose  stealingly  out  of  silence,  and  the 
materialist  who  had  been  city  bound  so  much  since 
conviction  of  crime  had  shadowed  his  life  discovered 
the  thing  which  threatened  danger. 

It  came  to  him  as  his  eyes  met  those  of  Glory,  who 
sat  in  the  doorway  itself — since  she,  at  least,  need  not 
fear  to  show  her  face  to  any  lurking  rifleman. 

The  yellow  lamplight  from  within  outlined  the 
lovely  contour  of  her  rounded  cheek  and  throat  and 
livened  her  hair,  but  it  was  not  only  her  undeniable 
beauty  that  caused  Spurrier  sudden  anxiety.  It  was 
the  eyes  and  what  he  read  in  them.  Instantly  as  their 
gazes  engaged  she  dropped  her  glance  but,  in  the  mo- 
ment before  she  had  masked  her  expression,  Spurrier, 


140    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

knew  that  she  had  fallen  in  love  with  him.  The  eyes 
had  said  it  in  that  instant  when  he  had  surprised  them. 
They  had  immediately  seized  back  their  secret  and 
hidden  it  away,  but  not  in  time. 

The  opportunity  hound  rose  and  knocked  the  ash 
from  his  pipe.  He  wondered  whether  old  Dyke  Cap- 
peze,  sitting  there  inscrutable  and  dimly  shaped  in  the 
shadows,  had  shared  his  discovery — that  grizzled  old 
watchdog  who  was  not  too  far  gone  to  fight  for  his 
own  with  the  strength  of  his  yellowed  fangs. 

The  visitor  shook  hands  and  walked  moodily  home, 
and  as  he  went  he  sought  to  dismiss  the  matter  from 
his  mind.  It  was  all  a  delusion,  he  assured  himself; 
some  weird  psychological  quirk  born  of  a  man's  innate 
vanity;  incited  by  a  girl's  physical  allurement.  He 
would  go  to  sleep  and  to-morrow  he  would  laugh  at 
the  moonshine  problem.  But  he  did  not  find  it  so  easy 
to  sleep.  He  remembered  one  of  those  men  in  the 
islands  who  had  become  a  melancholiac.  The  fellow 
had  been  normal  at  one  moment;  then  without  warn- 
ing something  like  an  impenetrable  shadow  had  struck 
across  him.  He  had  never  come  out  of  the  shadow. 
So  this  disquiet — though  it  was  abnormal  elation 
rather  than  melancholy,  had  suddenly  become  a  fact 
with  himself,  and  instead  of  dismissing  it  Spurrier 
found  himself  reacting  to  it.  Not  only  was  Glory 
Cappeze  in  love  with  him  but — absurdity  of  absurd- 
ities— he  was  in  love  with  Glory! 

It  was  as  irreconcilable  with  all  the  logic  of  his 
own  nature  as  any  conceivable  thing  could  be,  yet  it 
was  undeniably  true. 

But  Spurrier  had  been  there  in  the  hills  when  sum- 
mer had  overcome  winter.  He  had  seen  trickles  of 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    141 

water  grow  into  freshets  and  feed  rivers.  He  had 
seen  clouds  as  large  as  one's  hand  swell  abruptly  into 
tempests  that  cannonaded  mightily  through  the  peaks, 
with  the  lashing  of  torrents,  the  sting  of  lightnings, 
and  the  onsweep  of  hurricanes.  He  had  seen  the  pink 
flower  of  laurel  and  rhododendron  make  fragrant 
magic  over  wastes  of  chocolate  and  slag-gray  mountain 
sides,  and  in  himself  something  akin  to  these  elemental 
forces  had  declared  itself.  He  found  himself  two 
men,  and  though  he  swore  resolutely  that  his  brain 
should  dominate  and  govern,  he  also  recognized  in 
himself  the  man  of  new-born  impulses  who  drew  the 
high  air  into  his  chest  with  a  keen  elation,  and  who 
wanted  to  laugh  at  the  artificial  things  that  life  has 
wrought  into  its  structure  of  accepted  civilization. 

That  insurgent  part  of  himself  found  a  truer  con- 
geniality in  the  company  of  grizzled  old  Dyke  Cap- 
peze  than  that  of  Martin  Harrison;  a  stronger  com- 
radeship in  the  frank  laugh  of  Glory  than  in  the  cool 
intelligence  of  Vivien's  smile. 

Glory's  brain  was  as  alert  as  quicksilver,  and  her 
heart  as  high  and  clean  as  the  hills.  Yet  in  his  own 
world  these  two  would  be  as  unplaced  as  gypsies 
strayed  from  their  dilapidated  caravan.  Moreover,  it 
was  ordained  that  he  was  to  win  his  game  and  upon 
him  was  to  be  conferred  an  accolade — the  hand,  in 
marriage,  of  his  principal's  daughter. 

Spurrier  laughed  a  little  grimly  to  himself.  Of  the 
woman  whose  hand  had  been  half -promised  him  he 
could  think  dispassionately  and  of  this  other,  whom 
he  could  not  take  with  him  into  his  world  of  artifi- 
cial values,  he  could  not  think  at  all  without  a  pound- 


142    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

ing  of  pulses  and  a  tumult  which  he  thought  he  had 
left  behind  him  with  his  early  youth. 

In  character  and  genuine  metal  of  mind,  Glory  was 
the  superior  of  most  of  those  women  he  knew,  yet  be- 
cause she  was  country  bred  and  trained  to  a  code  that 
did  not  obtain  elsewhere,  she  could  no  more  be  re- 
moved from  her  setting  than  a  blooming  eidelweiss 
could  be  successfully  transplanted  in  a  conservatory. 
He  himself  was  fixed  into  a  certain  place  which  he  had 
attained  by  fighting  his  way,  in  the  figurative  sense  at 
least,  over  the  bodies  of  the  less  successful  and  the 
less  enduring.  It  was  too  late  for  him  to  transplant 
himself,  and  he  and  she  were  plants  of  differing  soil, 
as  though  one  were  a  snow  flower  and  one  a  tropic 
growth. 

Also  there  were  immediate  things  of  which  to 
think,  such  as  an  unexpired  threat  upon  his  life. 

Already  he  had  escaped  the  assassin's  first  effort, 
and  he  had  no  guess  where  the  enmity  lay  which  had 
actuated  that  attack.  That  it  still  existed  and  would 
strike  again  he  had  a  full  realization.  He  was  not 
walking  in  the  shadow  of  dread  but,  because  he  knew 
of  the  menace  lurking  where  all  the  faces  were 
friendly,  he  had  begun  to  feel  that  companionship  of 
suspense:  that  nearness  of  something  in  hiding  under 
which  men  lived  here;  and  under  which  women  grew 
old  in  their  twenties. 

And  it  is  not  given  to  a  man  to  live  under  such  con- 
ditions, and  remain  the  man  who  fights  only  across 
mahogany  tabletops  in  offices.  Yet  John  Spurrier 
scornfully  reasoned  that  if  he  could  not  remain  him- 
self even  in  a  new  and  altered  habitat,  he  was  a  weak- 
ling, and  he  had  no  intention  of  proving  a  weakling. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    143 

His  hand  had  grasped  the  plow-haft  and,  for  the 
present,  at  least,  his  loyalty  belonged  to  his  under- 
taking. 

This  inward  conflict  went  with  him  as  he  rode 
across  the  singing  hills  to  gather  up  his  mail  at  the 
nearest  post  office  and  he  told  himself,  "I  am  a  fool 
to  ponder  it" 

Then  his  thoughts  ran  on:  "It  is  dwelling  on  facti- 
tious things  that  gives  them  force.  Life  presents  a 
Janus  aspect  of  the  double-faced  at  times,  but  a  man 
must  choose  his  way  and  ignore  the  turnings.  Glory 
has  pure  charm.  She  has  a  quick  mind  and  a  captivat- 
ing beauty,  but  so  far  as  I'm  concerned,  she  is  simply 
out  of  the  picture.  I  could  be  mad  about  her,  if  I 
let  myself — but  presumably  I  am  not  adrift  on  a 
gulf  stream  of  emotionalism." 

When  he  had  spent  an  hour  in  the  dusty  little  town 
and  turned  again  into  the  coolness  of  the  hills,  he  dis- 
mounted under  the  shade  of  a  "cucumber  tree"  and 
glanced  through  those  letters  that  were  still  unopened. 
One  envelope  was  addressed  in  a  hand  that  tantalized 
memory  with  a  half  sense  of  the  familiar,  and  Spur- 
rier's brow  contracted  in  perplexity. 

Then  his  face  grew  abruptly  grave.  "By  heavens !" 
he  exclaimed.  "It's  Withers — Major  Withers !  What 
can  he  be  writing  about?" 

He  opened  it  and  drew  out  the  sheet  of  paper,  and, 
as  he  read,  his  expression  went  through  the  gamut 
of  surprise  and  incredulity  to  a  settled  sternness  of 
purpose  that  made  his  face  stony. 

"If  it's  true,"  he  exclaimed,  "the  man  is  mine  to 
kill!  No,  not  to  kill,  either,  but  to  take  alive  at  all 
costs." 


144    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

He  stood  for  a  moment,  his  sinewy  body  answering 
to  a  tremor  of  deeply  shaken  emotion.  Had  he  been 
mountain-bred  and  feud-nurtured,  the  sinister  glitter 
of  his  eyes  could  have  been  no  more  relentless.  He 
was  for  that  moment  a  man  dedicating  himself  to  the 
blood  oath  of  vengeance. 

Then  he  composed  his  features  and  smoothed  out 
the  letter  that  his  clenched  fingers  had  unconsciously 
crumpled.  Again  he  read  what  Major  Withers  had  to 
say: 

I  am  writing  because  though  I  infer  that  you  have  suc- 
ceeded in  material  ways,  I  have  heard  nothing  of  your 
progress  in  clearing  your  name  and  I  know  that  until  that 
is  accomplished,  no  success  will  be  complete  for  you. 

Quite  recently  I  have  had  as  my  striker  a  fellow  named 
Wiley,  who  used  to  be  in  your  platoon — and  I  have  talked 
with  him  a  good  bit.  Not  long  ago  he  declared  to  me  his 
belief  that  Private  Grant  who  is  listed  as  officially  dead, 
did  not  die  in  the  Islands. 

He  seems  to  think  that  Grant  made  a  clean  getaway  and 
went  back  to  the  Kentucky  mountains  from  which  he  came. 
He  confesses  that  he  gets  this  idea  from  nothing  more 
tangible  than  casual  hints  dropped  by  Private  Severance, 
whose  discharge  came  shortly  after  you  left  MS,  yet  his 
impression  is  so  strong  as  to  amount  to  conviction.  Possibly 
if  you  could  trace  Severance  you  might  learn  something. 
It's  a  vague  clew,  I  admit,  but  I  pass  it  along  to  you  for 
whatever  it  may  be  worth. 

Slowly,  as  though  his  tireless  limbs  had  grown  sud- 
denly old,  Spurrier  mounted  and  rode  on  with  reins 
hanging.  He  was  so  deep  in  thought  that  he  forgot 
the  other  unopened  letters  in  his  pocket. 

Grant  might  be  in  these  same  hills  with  himself; 
Grant  upon  whom  his  counsel  had  sought  to  place  the 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    145 

blame  for  the  murder  of  Captain  Comyn.  If  they 
could  meet  alone  for  the  period  of  a  brief  interview, 
either  that  question  would  be  finally  answered  or  in 
the  reckoning  one  of  them  would  have  to  die. 

But  how  to  trace  him  in  this  ragged  territory  cov- 
ering a  great  and  broken  area — a  territory  which  God 
had  seemed  to  build,  as  a  haven  and  a  hiding  place  for 
men  who  sought  concealment?  Grant  would  in  all 
likelihood  see  him  first  and — he  entertained  no  illu- 
sions as  to  the  result — the  deserter  would  kill  him  on 
sight.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  do  Spurrier  no 
good  to  kill  Grant.  If  Grant  were  to  serve  him  it 
must  be  with  a  confession  wrung  from  living  lips, 
and  on  oath. 

Of  course,  too,  the  years  would  have  changed  Grant 
so  that  if  they  came  face  to  face  he  would  probably 
fail  to  recognize  the  man  he  had  known  only  in  khaki. 

The  scarred  chin?  A  beard  would  obliterate  that. 
The  stature?  Added  weight  or  lost  weight  would 
make  it  seem  another  man's. 

By  processes  of  elimination  Spurrier  culled  over  the 
possibilities  until  at  length  his  glance  brightened. 

In  one  particular  Private  Grant  could  scarcely  dis- 
guise himself.  His  eyes  were  in  a  fashion  mismated. 
One  was  light  gray  and  one  pale  blue.  Yes,  if  ever 
they  met  he  would  have  his  clew  in  that. 

And  that  memory  reminded  him  that  he  had  re- 
cently been  impressed  to  an  unusual  degree  by  a  pair 
of  eyes.  Whose  were  they?  Oh,  yes,  he  remembered 
now.  It  was  the  man  at  whose  house  he  had  met  Sam 
Mosebury — Sim  Colby  who  dwelt  over  beyond  Club- 
foot  Branch. 

But  Colby's  eyes  had  been  noticeable  by  reason  of 


146    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

their  extraordinary  blackness.  So  that  only  helped 
him  in  so  far  as  it  enabled  him  to  eliminate  from  all 
the  thousands  of  possible  men  the  one  man,  Sim 
Colby. 

The  afternoon  had  spent  itself  toward  sunset  as  he 
dismounted  and  stabled  his  horse,  and  it  was  with  a 
face  still  somberly  thoughtful  that  he  fitted  his  key 
into  the  padlock  which  held  his  door  and  entered. 

The  interior  was  dusky  in  contrast  with  the  outer 
light,  but  from  one  window  a  shaft  of  golden  radiance 
slanted  inward  and  in  it  the  dust  motes  danced. 

Spurrier  paused  and  glanced  about  him,  but  before 
he  had  thrown  down  the  hat  he  had  taken  from  his 
perspiring  forehead,  a  sound  hideously  unmistakable 
caused  his  heart-beat  to  miss  its  rhythm  and  pound  in 
commotion. 

Every  man  has  his  one  terror,  or,  at  least,  one  antip- 
athy which  he  is  unable  to  treat  with  customary  calm- 
ness. With  Spurrier  it  was  everything  reptilian.  In 
the  islands  he  had  dreaded  the  snake  menace  more 
than  fever  or  head  hunters.  Now,  from  the  darkened 
floor  near  his  feet  came  the  vicious  whir  of  rattles,  and 
as  his  eyes  flashed  toward  the  sound  he  saw  coiled 
there  a  huge  snake  with  its  flat,  arrow-shaped  head 
sinuously  waving  from  side  to  side. 

With  an  agility  made  lightning-quick  by  necessity, 
he  leaped  aside  and,  at  the  same  instant,  the  snake 
launched  itself  with  such  venomous  force  that  the 
sound  of  its  striking  and  falling  on  the  puncheon  floor 
was  like  the  lashing  of  a  mule  whip.  The  man  had 
felt  the  disturbed  air  of  its  passing  as  of  a  sword 
stroke  that  had  narrowly  missed  him. 

But  he  had  no  leisure  to  regain  the  breath  that  had 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    147 

caught  startled  in  his  throat,  before,  from  his  left,  he 
heard  again  the  ominous  note  of  warning,  and  felt 
his  scalp  creep  with  horror.  The  place  which  he  had 
left  locked  and  believed  to  be  mosquito  proof,  now 
seemed  alive  with  the  loathsome  trespassers. 

As  Spurrier  leaped  for  his  couch  he  heard  again  the 
sound  of  a  living  coil  released  and  its  hawserlike  lash- 
ing of  the  floor.  Now  he  could  see  more  plainly  and, 
calculating  his  distance,  he  jumped  for  the  table  from 
which  he  could  reach  the  loaded  shotgun  that  hung 
on  his  wall.  If  he  fell  short,  he  would  come  down 
at  their  mercy — but  he  landed  securely  and  without 
capsizing  his  support.  His  elevation  gave  him  a  pre- 
carious sort  of  safety,  but  on  the  floor  below  him  he 
counted  three  rattlesnakes,  crawling  and  recoiling; 
their  cold-blooded  eyes  following  his  movements  with 
baleful  intentness. 

Spurrier  was  conscious  of  his  trembling  hands  as 
he  leveled  the  weapon,  and  of  a  crawling  sensation  of 
loathing  along  his  spine. 

Twice  the  gun  roared,  splintering  the  flooring  and 
spattering  its  ricochetting  pellets,  and  two  of  the 
rattlers  twisted  in  convulsive  but  harmless  writhings. 
But  the  third  head — and  it  seemed  the  largest  of  the 
three — had  withdrawn  under  the  cot.  He  was  not 
even  sure  that  these  three  made  up  the  total.  There 
might  be  others. 

With  painstaking  care  Spurrier  came  down  and 
armed  himself  with  a  stout  hickory  flail  which  had 
been  used  in  other  days  by  some  housewife  in  her 
primitive  laundry  work  as  a  "battling  stick." 

Then  he  advanced  to  the  battle,  swinging  one  end  of 
the  cot  wide  and  shiftily  sidestepping.  The  rattler 


148    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

which  lay  in  piled  circles  of  coppery  length  regarded 
him  with  steely  venom,  turning  its  swaying  head  de- 
liberately as  its  enemy  circled.  With  the  startling 
abruptness  of  an  electric  buzzer  it  warned  and  sprang. 
He  escaped  by  an  uncomfortable  margin  and  attacked 
it  with  the  flail  before  it  could  rearrange  its  coils. 
Finally  he  stood  panting  with  exertion  over  the  scene 
of  slaughter. 

As  he  searched  the  place  with  profoundest  particu- 
larity his  mind  was  analyzing  the  strange  invasion. 
His  house  was  as  tight  as  he  had  thought  it.  There 
was  no  cranny  that  would  have  let  in  three  large 
rattlers.  How  had  they,  come  there? 

Spurrier  went  out  and  studied  his  door.  The  hasps 
that  held  his  padlock  were  in  place,  but  the  woodwork 
about  them  had  been  recently  scarred.  The  lock  fast- 
enings had  been  pulled  out  and  replaced. 

With  a  nervous  moisture  on  his  brow  the  man  rec- 
ognized the  fiendish  ingenuity  of  his  mysterious 
enemy.  These  slithering  creatures  had  come  here  by 
human  agency  as  brute  accomplices  in  the  murder  that 
had  failed  from  the  rifle  muzzle.  The  pertinacity  and 
cunning  of  the  scheme's  anonymous  author  gave 
promise  of  eventfulness  hereafter. 

Had  he  been  struck,  according  to  the  evident  in- 
tention, as  he  entered  his  house,  he  would  probably 
have  died  there,  unsuccored,  leaving  the  door  open. 
The  rattlers  would  either  have  found  their  way  out 
after  that,  or,  when  his  body  was  discovered,  the  open 
door  would  have  explained  their  presence  inside,  and 
no  suspicion  of  a  man's  conspiracy  would  have  re- 
mained. 

One  thing  stood  out  clear  in  Spurrier's  summing- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    149 

up.  Whatever  the  source  of  the  enmity  which  pur- 
sued him,  it  had  its  nerve  center  in  an  ingenious  brain 
and  it  threw  about  itself  that  element  of  mystery 
which  a  timid  man  would  have  found  terrifying  and 
unendurable.  Also  it  operated  writh  a  patience  which 
was  a  manifest  of  its  unswerving  determination. 
Effort  might  be  expected  to  follow  effort  until  suc- 
cess came — or  the  unknown  plotter  were  discovered 
and  disposed  of. 

Yet  the  author  of  these  malignant  attempts  worked 
with  an  unflurried  deliberation,  allowing  passive  in- 
tervals to  elapse  between  activities,  like  the  volcano 
that  rests  in  the  quiet  of  false  security  between  fatal 
eruptions. 

Of  course,  the  letter  with  the  mention  of  Private 
Grant  might  be  a  clew  of  identity,  yet  calm  reflec- 
tion discounted  that  assumption  as  a  wild  and  uncon- 
firmed grasping  out  after  something  tangible. 

Perhaps  Spurrier  as  nearly  approached  the  abso- 
lute in  physical  fearlessness  as  it  is  given  to  man  to 
come — but  the  mystery  of  a  pursuing  hatred  which 
could  not  be  openly  faced,  filled  him  with  a  sense  of 
futility,  and  the  futility  inspired  rage  which  was  un- 
settling and  must  be  combated. 

That  night  he  lay  long  awake,  and  after  he  had 
fallen  asleep  he  came  often  to  a  sudden  and  wide-eyed 
wakefulness  again  at  the  sound  of  an  owl's  call  or  the 
creaking  of  a  tree  limb. 

The  next  morning  found  him  restless  of  spirit,  and 
it  occurred  to  him  that  his  secret  enemy  might  be  lurk- 
ing near  to  inspect  the  results  of  his  handiwork,  so 
he  went  down  to  the  road  and  hung  the  three  dead 
rattlesnakes  along  the  fence  where  no  passer-by  could 


150    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

miss  seeing  their  twisted  and  mutilated  lengths.  That 
should  be  his  retort  to  any  inquiring  and  hostile  eye, 
that  he  was  alive  and  the  creatures  put  there  to  de- 
stroy him  had  paid  with  their  lives. 

From  a  place  screened  from  view  he  meant  to  watch 
that  gruesome  exhibit  and  mark  its  effect  upon  any 
one  who  paused  to  inspect  it.  Possibly  in  that  way  a 
clew  might  be  vouchsafed — but  he  did  not  at  once  take 
cover  in  the  thickets. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning.  The  sun  had  ripped 
away  the  mists  that,  in  the  mountains,  always  hang 
damp  and  veillike  between  gray  dawning  and  colorful 
day.  The  cool  forest  recesses  were  vocal  with  the 
twitterings  and  song  from  feathered  throats. 

Spurrier  sat  down  by  the  road  and  gave  himself  up 
to  thoughts  that  it  was  safer  to  banish:  thoughts  that 
came  with  those  sights  and  sounds  and  that  made 
long-stilled  pulses  awaken  and  throb  in  him. 

This  morning  made  him  feel  Glory's  presence  and 
gave  him  a  fine  recklessness  as  to  responsibility  and 
consequence.  Suddenly  he  came  to  himself  and  seemed 
to  hear  the  cool  cynicism  of  Martin  Harrison's  voice 
inquiring,  as  it  had  once  actually  inquired :  "Growing 
sentimental?" 

He  pulled  himself  together  and  stiffened  his  expres- 
sion into  one  more  suitable  upon  the  face  of  a  man 
who  has  taken  the  severe  vows  of  service  to  a  cold 
ambition. 

But  a  little  later  he  heard  a  sound  and  looked  up 
sidewise  to  see  Glory  herself  standing  near  him  in  the 
road;  a  materialization  of  the  truant  dreams  he  had 
been  entertaining. 

She  wore  a  dress  whose  simplicity  accentuated  the 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    151 

slender  erectness  of  her  young  body  and  the  litheness 
of  her  carriage.  Her  hair  hung  in  braids  and  the 
sunbonnet  had  fallen  back  from  the  brightness  of  her 
hair.  In  her  eyes  played  the  violet  lights  of  a  merri- 
ment that  lifted  and  curved  her  lips  beguilingly. 

Spurrier  came  to  his  feet,  and  perhaps  Glory,  who 
had  succumbed  to  her  moment  of  self -revelation  there 
on  the  twilight  porch,  had  her  revenge  now.  For  that 
first  startled  moment  as  their  glances  met,  the  eyes 
that  looked  into  hers  were  lover's  eyes,  and  their  un- 
spoken message  was  courtship.  If  he  maintained  the 
stoic's  silence  forever,  as  to  words,  at  least  his  heart 
had  spoken. 

"Before  Heaven,"  said  the  man  slowly,  and  the 
tremor  of  his  voice  was  out  of  keeping  with  the  in- 
grained poise  of  his  usual  self-command,  "when  they 
called  you  Glory,  they  didn't  misname  you!" 

The  girl  flushed  pink,  and  he  took  a  step  toward  her 
with  the  absorbed  intensity  of  a  sleep-walker. 

Glory  stood  there — watched  him  coming  and  did 
not  move.  To  her,  though  she  had  sought  to  hide  it, 
he  had  become  the  One  Man.  Her  unconfessed  love 
had  magnified  and  deified  him — and  now  his  own  eyes 
were  blazing  responsively  with  love  for  her! 

Suddenly  she  was  shaken  by  a  rapturous  tremor 
that  seemed  almost  like  swooning  or  being  lifted  on 
some  powerful  wave  that  swept  her  clear  of  the  earth, 
so  that  she  made  no  effort  at  disguise,  but  let  the 
laughing  light  in  her  eyes  become  softer,  yet  more 
glowingly  intense. 

It  was  as  if  they  had  met  in  the  free  realm  of 
dreams  where  there  are  no  hamperings  of  impossibil- 
ity. As  he  drew  near  her,  his  arms  came  out,  and  he 


152    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

halted  so  that,  under  that  same  delightful  sense  of 
irresponsibility,  it  seemed  to  her  quite  natural  to  step 
into  their  welcome. 

Possibly  the  happenings  of  yesterday  and  the  sleep- 
less hours  of  last  night  had  left  Spurrier  momentarily 
light-headed.  Certainly  had  one  of  the  rattlers  stung 
him  and  poisoned  his  reason,  he  could  not  be  doing  a 
thing  more  foreign  to  his  program  of  intention. 

He  felt  his  arms  close  about  her ;  felt  the  fragrance 
of  her  breath,  found  himself  pressing  his  kisses  on 
lips  that  welcomed  them,  and  forgot  everything  ex- 
cept that  this  was  a  moment  of  ecstasy  and  passion. 


CHAPTER  XII 

FOR  a  while  they  stood  there  together  in  the  nar- 
row road  to  whose  edges  the  dense  greenery 
came  down  massed  and  dewy.     Their  breath 
was  quick  with  the  excitement  of  that  moment  when 
the  hills  and  the  rocks  that  upheld  them  seemed  to 
them   palpitant   and   gloriously   shaken.      Then   they 
heard  the  lumbering  of  wheels,  and  with  one  impulse 
that   needed    no    expression   in    words   they    turned 
through  a  gorge  which  ran  at  right  angles  into  the 
stillness  of  the  woods — and  away  from  interruption. 

Spurrier  had,  it  seemed  to  him,  stepped  through  a 
curtain  in  life  and  found  beyond  it  a  door  of  which 
he  had  not  known.  It  seemed  natural  that  he  and 
Glory  should  be  going  hand  in  hand  into  that  place  of 
dreams  like  children  at  play  and  hearing  joyous  voices 
that  were  mute  and  nonexistent  in  the  world  of  com- 
monplace and  fact. 

He  did  not  even  pause  to  reflect  that  this  was  a 
continuation  of  the  same  ravine  in  which  an  assassin's 
bullet  had  once  so  narrowly  missed  him.  Yesterday, 
too,  was  forgotten. 

Just  now  he  was  young  in  his  heart  again,  and  had 
love  for  his  talisman.  Actuality  had  been  dethroned 
by  some  dream  wizardry  and  left  him  free  of  obliga- 
tion to  reason.  Then  he  heard  Glory's  voice  low- 
pitched  and  a  little  frightened. 

"It  kain't— can't— be  true.     It's  just  a  dream!" 
153 


154    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

A  flash  of  sanity,  like  the  shock  of  a  cold  plunge, 
brought  the  thought  that,  from  her  lips,  had  sounded 
a  warning.  This  was  the  moment,  if  ever,  to  draw 
back  and  take  counsel  of  common  sense.  Now  it 
would  be  easier  than  later  to  abase  himself  and  con- 
fess that  in  this  midsummer's  madness  was  no  sub- 
stance or  color  of  reality — that  he  stood  unalterably 
pledged  to  her  renunciation. 

But  the  earthquake  does  not  still  itself  at  the  height 
of  its  tremor  and  the  cyclone  does  not  stop  dead  with 
its  momentum  unspent.  Years  of  calculated  and 
nerve-trying  self-command  were  exacting  their  toll 
in  the  satisfaction  of  outbreak.  Spurrier's  emotional 
self  was  in  volcanic  eruption,  the  more  molten  and 
lava-hot  for  the  prolonged  dormancy  of  a  sealed 
crater. 

He  caught  the  girl  again  and  pressed  her  so  close 
that  the  commotion  of  her  heart  came  throbbing 
against  him  through  the  yielding  softness  of  her 
breast ;  and  the  agitation  of  her  breath  on  his  face  was 
a  little  tempest  of  acquiescent  sweetness. 

"Doesn't  it  seem  real,  now?"  he  challenged  as  he 
released  her  enough  to  let  her  breathe,  yet  held  her 
imprisoned,  and  she  nodded,  radiant-eyed,  and  an- 
swered in  a  voice  half  bewildered  and  more  than  half 
burdened  with  self-reproach. 

"I  didn't  even  hang  back,"  she  made  confession. 
"I  just  walked  right  into  your  arms  the  minute  you 
held  them  out.  I  didn't  seem  able  to  help  myself." 

Suddenly  her  eyes,  impenitent  once  more,  danced 
with  mischief  and  her  smile  broke  like  a  sun  flash  over 
her  face. 

"If  I'd  had  the  power  of  witchcraft,  I'd  have  put 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    155 

the  spell  on  you,  Jack,"  she  declared.  "I  had  to  make 
you  love  me.  I  just  had  to  do  it." 

"I  rather  think  you  had — that  power,  dear." 

He  laughed  contentedly  as  a  man  may  who  shifts 
all  responsibility  for  an  indiscretion  to  a  force 
stronger  than  his  own  volition. 

"You  see,"  she  went  on  as  if  seeking  to  make  illogic 
seem  logical.  "From  the  first — I  couldn't  think  of 
you  except  with  storm  thoughts.  I  couldn't  keep  my 
heart  quiet,  when  I  was  with  you." 

"At  first,"  he  reminded  her,  "you  wanted  to  kill 
me.  I  heard  you  confiding  to  Rover." 

Her  eyes  grew  seriously  deep  and  undefensive  in 
their  frankness.  It  was  the  candor  of  a  woman's  pride 
in  conquest. 

"I'm  not  sure  yet,"  she  said  almost  fiercely,  "that 
I  wouldn't  almost  rather  kill  you  than — lose  you  to 
any  other  girl." 

Vaguely  and  as  yet  remotely,  Spurrier's  conscious- 
ness was  pricked  with  a  forecast  of  reality's  veto,  but 
the  present  spoke  in  passion  and  the  future  whispered 
weakly  in  platitudes. 

"You  won't  lose  me,"  he  protested.     "I'm  yours." 

"And  yet,"  went  on  Glory,  "you  seemed  a  long  way 
off.  You  were  the  man  who  did  big  things  in  the 
world  outside.  You  were — always  cool  and — calcu- 
lating." 

"Glory,"  his  words  came  with  the  rush  of  impetu- 
osity for  already  the  whispers  of  warning  were  gain- 
ing in  volume,  and  impulse  was  struggling  for  its  new 
freedom,  "the  man  you've  seen  to-day  is  one  I  haven't 
known  myself  before.  Chilled  calculation  and  self- 
repression  have  been  the  articles  of  my  creed.  I've 


156    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

been  crusted  with  those  obsessions  like  a  ship's  hull 
with  barnacles.  Did  you  know  that  when  vessels  pass 
through  the  Panama  Canal,  the  barnacles  drop  off?" 

She  shook  her  head. 

"No,"  she  said,  and  her  lips  twisted  into  something 
like  wistfulness  as  she  dropped  unconsciously  into 
vernacular.  "There's  a  lavish  of  things  I  don't  know. 
You've  got  to  learn  'em  all  to  me — I  mean  teach  them 
to  me." 

"Well,"  he  went  on  slowly,  "steamers  that  pass 
through  the  fresh  water,  from  salt  to  salt,  automati- 
cally cleanse  their  plates.  You've  been  fresh  water  to 
me,  Glory." 

"Jack,"  she  declared  with  tempestuous  anxiety, 
"you  say  I've  changed  you.  I'll  try  to  change  myself, 
too,  all  the  ways  I  can — all  the  ways  you  want." 

"I  don't  want  you  changed,"  he  objected.  "If  you 
were  changed,  it  wouldn't  be  you." 

"Maybe,"  she  persisted,  "you'd  like  me  better  if  I 
were  taller  or  had  black  eyes." 

"I  wonder  now,"  he  teased  with  the  whimsey  of  the 
moment,  "what  you  would  look  like  with  black  eyes? 
I  can't  imagine  it.  Will  you  do  that  for  me?" 

"Come  to  our  house  to-night,"  she  irrelevantly  com- 
manded. "Won't  you?" 

"Yes,"  he  said,  "I'd  come  to-night  if  I  had  to  swim 
the  Hellespont." 

But  when  he  had  left  her  an  hour  later  at  the  cross- 
roads and  started  back,  his  eyes  fell  on  the  ugly  shapes 
of  the  three  rattlesnakes,  over  which  he  had  forgotten 
to  keep  watch  and  which  she  had  not  even  seen,  and 
yesterday  came  back  with  the  impact  of  undisguised 
realization.  Yesterday  and  to-morrow  stood  out  again 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    157 

in  their  own  solid  proportions  and  to-day  stood  like  a 
slender  wisp  of  heart's  desire  shouldered  between  un- 
compromising giants  of  fact. 

Spurrier  could  no  longer  deny  that  his  personal 
world  centered  about  Glory;  that  away  from  her 
would  be  only  the  unspeakable  bleakness  of  lonely 
heart  hunger. 

But  it  was  equally  certain  that  he  could  not  aban- 
don everything  upon  which  he  had  underpinned  his 
future,  and  in  that  structure  was  no  niche  which  she 
could  occupy. 

Sitting  alone  in  his  house  with  a  chill  ache  at  his 
heart  and  facing  a  dilemma  that  seemed  without  solu- 
tion, he  knew  for  once  the  tortures  of  terror.  For 
once  he  could  not  face  the  future  intrepidly. 

He  had  recognized  when  the  army  had  stigmatized 
him  and  cast  him  out,  that  only  by  iron  force  and  ag- 
gression could  he  break  his  way  through  to  success. 
He  was  enlisted  in  a  warfare  captained  by  financiers 
of  major  caliber  and  committed  to  a  struggle  out  of 
which  victory  would  bring  him  not  only  wealth,  but 
a  place  of  his  own  among  such  financiers — a  place 
which  Glory  could  not  share. 

He  and  his  principals  alike  were  fighting  for  the 
prizes  of  the  looting  victor  in  a  battle  without  chiv- 
alry, and  whether  he  won  or  was  crushed  by  Ameri- 
can Oil  and  Gas,  the  native  landholder  must  be  ground 
and  bruised  between  the  impact  of  clashing  forces.  In 
the  trail  of  his  victory,  no  less  than  theirs,  would  be 
human  wreckage. 

Sitting  before  his  dead  hearth  while  the  afternoon 
shadows  slanted  and  lengthened,  Spurrier  wondered 
what  agonies  had  wracked  the  heart  of  Napoleon 


158    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

when  he  was  called  upon  to  choose  between  Josephine 
and  a  dynasty.  For  even  in  his  travail  the  egoist 
thought  of  himself  and  his  ambitions  in  Napoleonic 
terms. 

As  he  sat  there  alone  with  silences  about  his  lonely 
cabin  that  seemed  speaking  in  still  voices  of  vastness, 
the  poignant  personality  of  his  thoughts  brought  him, 
by  the  strange  anomaly  of  life,  to  realizations  that 
were  not  merely  personal. 

Glory  had  won  his  heart  and  it  was  as  though  in 
doing  so  she  had  also  made  his  feelings  quicken  for 
her  people:  these  people  from  whose  poverty,  hos- 
pitality and  kindness  had  been  poured  out  to  him: 
these  people  who  had  taken  him  at  first  with  reserve 
and  then  accepted  him  with  faith. 

He  had  eaten  their  bread  and  salt.  He  had  drunk 
their  illicit  whiskey,  given  to  him  with  no  fear  that 
he  would  betray  them  even  in  the  lawlessness  which  to 
them  seemed  honorable  and  fair. 

And  yet  his  purpose  here,  was  the  single  one  of  en- 
abling a  certain  group  of  money-grabbing  financiers 
to  triumph  over  another  group  at  the  cost  of  the 
mountaineer  land-holders.  It  was  not  because,  if  he 
succeeded,  there  would  not  be  enough  of  legitimate 
profit  to  enrich  all,  but  because  in  a  campaign  of 
secrecy  he  could  make  a  confidant  of  no  one.  If  the 
enterprise  were  carried  through  at  all  he  must  have 
secured,  for  principals  who  would  abate  nothing  and 
give  back  nothing,  the  necessary  property  bought  on 
the  basis  of  barren  farming  land.  Were  it  his  own 
endeavor  he  could  first  plunder  and  develop  and  then 
make  restitution,  but  acting  as  an  agent  he  could  no 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    159 

more  do  that  than  the  soldier  who  has  uncondition- 
ally surrendered,  can  subsequently  demand  terms. 

The  man  who  had  been  a  plunger  at  gaming  table 
and  race  track,  who  had  succeeded  as  an  imitator  of 
schemes  that  attracted  major  capital,  was  of  neces- 
sity one  of  imagination.  Perhaps  had  life  dealt  him 
different  cards,  Spurrier  would  have  been  a  novelist 
or  even  a  poet,  for  that  imagination  which  he  had  put 
into  heavy  harness  was  also  capable  of  flights  into 
phantasy  and  endowed  with  something  almost  mystic. 

Now  under  the  stress  of  this  conflict  in  his  mind,  as 
he  sat  before  his  hearth  in  shadows  that  were  vague  of 
light  and  shape,  that  unaccustomed  surrender  to  im- 
agination possessed  him,  peopling  the  dimness  with 
shapes  that  seemed  actual. 

His  eye  fell  upon  the  empty  three-legged  stool  that 
stood  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  hearth,  and  as  though 
he  were  looking  at  one  of  those  motion  picture  effects 
which  show,  in  double  negative  one  character  con- 
fronting his  dual  and  separate  self,  he  seemed  to  see  a 
figure  sitting  there  and  regarding  him  out  of  con- 
temptuous eyes. 

It  was  the  figure  of  a  very  young  man  clad  in  the 
tunic  of  a  graduating  West  Point  cadet  and  it  was  a 
figure  that  bore  itself  with  the  prideful  erectness  of 
one  who  regards  his  right  to  wear  his  uniform  as  a 
privilege  of  knighthood.  For  Spurrier  was  fancying 
himself  confronted  by  the  man  he  had  been  in  those 
days  of  eager  forward-looking,  and  of  almost  relig- 
ious resolve  to  make  of  himself  a  soldier  in  the  best 
meaning  of  the  word.  Then  as  his  eyes  closed  for  a 
moment  under  the  vividness  of  the  fancy,  the  figure 
dissolved  into  its  surroundings  of  shadow  and  near 


160    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

the  stool  with  folded  arms  and  a  bitterer  scorn  stood 
a  lieutenant  in  khaki. 

"So  this  is  what  you  have  come  to  be,"  said  the 
imaginary  Spurrier  blightingly  to  the  actual  Spurrier. 
"A  looter  and  brigand  no  better  than  the  false  amigos 
that  I  fought  over  there.  I  was  a  gentleman  and  you 
are  a  cad!" 

Had  the  man  been  dreaming  in  sleep  instead  of 
wakefulness,  his  vision  could  hardly  have  worn  habili- 
ments of  greater  actuality,  and  he  found  himself  re- 
torting in  hot  defensiveness. 

"Whatever  I  am  you  made  me.  It  was  you  who 
was  disgraced.  It  is  because  I  was  once  you  that  I  am 
now  I.  You  left  me  no  choice  but  to  fight  with  the 
weapons  that  came  to  hand,  and  those  weapons  were 
predatory.  .  .  If  I  have  deliberately  hardened  myself 
it  is  only  as  soldiers  of  other  days  put  on  coats  of  mail 
— because  soft  flesh  could  not  survive  the  mace  and 
broadsword." 

"And  when  you  win  your  prizes,  if  you  ever  win 
them,"  the  accusing  vision  appeared  to  retort,  "you 
will  have  paid  for  them  by  spending  all  that  was  hon- 
orable in  yourself;  all  that  was  generous  and  soldierly. 
When  you  were  I,  you  led  a  charge  across  rice  pad- 
dies without  cover  and  under  a  withering  fire.  For 
that  you  were  mentioned  in  dispatches  and  you  had  a 
paragraph  in  the  Army  and  Navy  Journal.  Have  you 
ever  won  a  prize  since  then,  that  meant  as  much  to 
you?" 

John  Spurrier  came  to  his  feet,  with  a  groan  in  his 
throat.  His  temples  were  moist  and  marked  with  a 
tracery  of  outstanding  veins  and  his  hands  were 
clenched. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    161 

"Good  God!"  he  exclaimed  aloud.  "Give  me.  back 
the  name  and  the  uniform  I  had  then,  and  see  how 
gladly  I'll  tell  these  new  masters  to  go  to  hell!" 

Startled  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice  arguing  with 
a  fantasy  as  with  a  fact,  the  man  sank  back  again  into 
his  chair  and  covered  his  face  with  his  spread  hands. 
But  shutting  out  sight  did  not  serve  to  shut  out  the 
images  of  his  fancy. 

He  saw  himself  hired  out  to  "practical"  overlords 
and  sent  to  prey  on  friends,  then  he  rose  and  stood 
confronting  the  empty  stool  where  the  dream-accuser 
in  uniform  had  stood  and  once  more  he  spoke  aloud. 
As  he  did  so  it  seemed  that  the  figure  returned  and 
stood  waiting,  stern  and  noncommittal,  while  he  ad- 
dressed it. 

"Give  me  the  success  I  need,  and  the  independence 
it  carries,  and  I'll  spend  my  life  exonerating  my  name. 
I'll  go  back  to  the  islands  and  live  among  the  natives 
till  I  find  a  man  who  will  tell  the  truth.  I'll  move 
heaven  and  earth — but  that  takes  money.  I've  always 
stood,  in  this  business,  with  wealth  just  beyond  my 
grasp — always  promised,  never  realized.  Let  me  re- 
alize it  and  be  equipped  to  fight  for  vindication.  These 
men  I  serve  have  the  prizes  to  dispense,  but  I  am 
bound  hand  and  foot  to  them.  They  take  therr  pay  in 
advance.  Once  victorious  I  can  break  with  them." 

"And  these  people  who  have  befriended  you,"  ques- 
tioned the  mentor  voice,  "what  of  them?" 

"I  love  them.  They  are  her  people.  I  shall  seem  to 
plunder  them,  but  if  my  plans  succeed  I  shall  be  in  a 
position  to  make  terms — and  my  terms  shall  be  theirs. 
Until  I  succeed  I  must  seem  false  to  them.  God 
knows  I'm  paying  for  that  too.  I  love  Glory!" 


162    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Suddenly  Spurrier  wiped  a  hand  across  a  clammy 
forehead  and  stood  looking  about  his  room,  empty 
save  for  himself.  He  seemed  a  man  who  had  been 
through  a  delirium.  But  he  reached  no  conclusion, 
and  when  twilight  found  him  tramping  toward  the 
Cappeze  house  it  was  with  a  heart  that  beat  with  an- 
ticipation— while  it  sought  refuge  in  postponed  deci- 
sion. 

When  Glory  received  him  in  the  lamp-lighted  room 
he  halted  in  amazement,  for  the  girl  who  stood  there 
with  a  mischievous  smile  on  her  lips  no  longer  looked 
at  him  out  of  eyes  violet-blue,  but  black  as  liquid  jet. 

"How  did  you  do  that?"  he  demanded  in  a  voice 
blank  with  astonishment.  "It's  a  sheer  impossibil- 
ity!" 

"Maybe  it's  witchcraft,  Jack,"  she  mocked  him. 

"Can  you  change  them  back?"  he  asked  a  little 
anxiously,  and  she  shook  her  head. 

"No,  but  they'll  change  of  themselves  in  a  day  or 
two." 

"I  reckon,"  commented  Dyke  Cappeze,  looking  up 
from  his  book  by  the  table,  "I  oughtn't  to  give  away 
feminine  secrets,  but  it's  a  right  simple  matter,  after 
all.  She  just  put  some  Jimson-weed  juice  in  her  eyes 
and  the  trick  was  done." 

"Jimson  weed,"  echoed  the  visitor,  and  the  elder 
nodded. 

"If  you  happen  to  remember  your  botany,  you'll 
recall  that  it's  longer  name  is  Datura  stramonium — 
and  it's  a  strong  mydriatic.  It  swells  the  pupil  and 
obliterates  the  iris." 

It  was  walking  homeward  with  a  low  moon  over- 
head that  evening  that  Spurrier's  thoughts  found  time 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    163 

to  wrestle  with  other  problems  than  those  affecting 
himself  and  Glory.  The  incident  of  the  black  eyes 
had  at  first  interested  him  only  because  they  were  her 
eyes,  but  now  he  thought  also  of  the  episode  of  the 
rattlesnakes  and  the  letter  from  Major  Withers. 

In  his  first  analysis  of  what  that  letter  might  mean 
to  him  he  had  decided  that  his  man  would  be  recog- 
nizable by  his  mismated  eyes.  He  had  recalled  Sim 
Colby's  black  ones  while  thinking  of  unusual  eyes  in 
general  and  had,  in  passing,  set  him  down  as  one  who 
stood  alibied. 

Now,  in  the  light  of  this  Jimson-weed  discovery, 
those  black  eyes  took  on  a  new  interest  Presumably 
it  was  a  trick  commonly  known  in  these  hills.  // 
Colby's  eyes  had  been  so  altered — and  they  had 
seemed  unnatural  in  their  tense  blackness — it  must 
have  been  with  a  deliberate  and  sufficient  motive.  Sim 
Colby  was  not  making  his  pupils  smart  and  sting  as  a 
matter  of  vanity.  A  man  resorting  to  disguises  seeks 
first  to  change  the  most  salient  notes  of  his  appear- 
ance. 

Spurrier  recalled,  with  the  force  of  added  impor- 
tance, the  surprised  look  on  Sam  Mosebury's  face  when 
that  genial  murderer,  upon  his  arrival,  had  stifled 
some  impulse  of  utterance. 

Suspicion  of  Colby  was  perhaps  far-fetched,  but  it 
took  a  powerful  hold  on  Spurrier,  and  one  from  which 
he  could  not  free  himself.  At  all  events,  he  must  see 
this  Sim  Colby  when  Colby  did  not  know  he  was 
coming — and  look  at  his  eyes  again. 

So  he  made  a  second  trip  across  the  hills  to  the  head 
of  Little  Quicksand,  and  for  the  sake  of  safeguarding 


164    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

against  any  warning  going  ahead  of  him,  he  spoke  to 
no  one  of  his  intention. 

This  time  he  went  armed  with  an  automatic  pistol 
and  a  very  grim  purpose.  When  they  met — if  the 
mountaineer's  eyes  were  no  longer  black — he  would 
probably  need  both. 

But  once  again  the  opportunity  hound  encountered 
disappointment.  He  found  a  chimney  with  no  smoke 
issuing  from  it  and  a  door  barred.  The  horse  had 
been  taken  out  of  the  stable  and  from  many  evidences 
about  the  untenanted  place  he  judged  that  the  man 
who  lived  alone  there  had  been  absent  for  several 
days. 

To  make  inquiries  would  be  to  proclaim  his  interest 
and  prejudice  his  future  chances  of  success,  so  he 
slipped  back  again  as  surreptitiously  as  he  had  come, 
and  the  determination  which  he  had  keyed  to  the  con- 
cert pitch  of  climax  had  to  be  laid  by. 

At  home  again  he  found  that  the  love  which  he 
could  neither  accept  nor  conquer  was  demoralizing  his 
moral  and  mental  equipoise.  He  could  no  longer  fix 
and  hold  his  attention  on  the  problems  of  his  work. 
His  spirit  was  in  equinox. 

The  only  solution  was  to  go  to  Glory  and  tell  her 
the  truth,  for  if  he  let  matters  run  uncontrolled  their 
momentum  would  become  unmanageable.  It  was  the 
simple  matter  of  choosing  failure  with  her  or  success 
without  her,  and  he  had  at  last  reached  his  decision. 
It  remained  only  to  tell  her  so. 

It  had  pleased  John  Spurrier  to  find  a  house  upon 
an  isolated  site  from  which  he  could  work  unobserved, 
while  he  maintained  his  careful  semblance  of  idleness. 
His  nearest  neighbor  was  a  mile  away  as  the  crow 


THE  LAW  OF  HE1NILOCK  MOUNTAIN    165 

flew,  and  Dyke  Cappeze  almost  two  miles.  Even  the 
deep-rutted  highroad,  itself,  lay  beyond  a  gorge  which 
native  parlance  called  a  "master  shut-in." 

Now  that  remoteness  pleased  his  enemies  as  well. 
Former  efforts  toward  his  undoing  had  been  balked  by 
accidents.  One  must  be  made  that  could  have  no 
chance  to  fail  and  an  isolated  setting  made  for  suc- 
cess. Matters  that  required  deft  handling  could  be 
conducted  by  daylight  instead  of  under  a  tricky  moon. 
It  was  a  good  spot  for  a  "rat-killing"  and  Spurrier 
was  to  be  the  rat. 

It  was  well  before  sunset  on  a  Thursday  afternoon 
that  rifle-armed  men,  holding  to  the  concealment  of 
the  "laurel  hells,"  began  approaching  the  high  place 
above  and  behind  Spurrier's  house.  They  came  from 
varying  directions  and  one  by  one.  No  one  had  seen 
any  gathering,  for  the  plans  had  been  made  elsewhere 
and  the  details  of  liaison  perfected  in  advance.  Now 
they  trickled  noiselessly  into  their  designated  posts 
and  slowly  drew  inward  toward  the  common  center 
of  the  house  itself. 

Spurrier  who  rode  in  at  mid-afternoon  from  some 
neighborhood  mission  commented  with  pleasure  upon 
the  cheery  "Bob  Whites"  of  the  quail  whistling  back 
in  the  timber. 

They  were  Glory's  birds,  and  this  winter  he  would 
know  better  than  to  shoot  them! 

But  they  were  not  Glory's  birds.  They  were  not 
birds  at  all,  and  those  pipings  came  from  human 
throats,  establishing  touch  as  the  murder  squad  ad- 
vanced upon  him  to  kill  him. 

The  man  opened  a  package  which  had  come  by  mail 
and  drew  from  its  wrappings  the  portrait  of  a  girl  in 


166    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

evening  dress  with  a  rope  of  pearls  at  her  throat.  Its 
silver  frame  was  a  counterpart  of  the  one  which  had 
stood  on  Martin  Harrison's  desk  that  night  when 
Spurrier  had  lifted  it  and  Vivien's  father  had  so  mean- 
ingly said:  "Make  good  in  this  and  all  your  ambi- 
tions can  be  fulfilled." 

Now  Spurrier  set  the  framed  picture  on  the  table 
at  the  center  of  the  room  and  it  seemed  to  look  out 
from  that  point  of  vantage  with  the  amused  indulg- 
ence of  well-bred  condescension  upon  the  Spartan  sim- 
plicity of  his  house — the  rough  table  and  hickory- 
withed  chairs,  the  cot  spread  with  its  gray  army 
blanket. 

The  man  gave  back  to  the  pictured  glance  as  little 
fire  of  eagerness  as  was  given  out  from  it. 

Just  now  Vivien  seemed  to  him  the  deity  and  per- 
sonification of  a  creed  that  was  growing  hateful,  yet 
one  to  which  he  stood  still  bound.  He  was  like  the 
priest  whose  vows  are  irrevocable  but  whose  faith  in 
his  dogma  has  died,  and  to  himself  he  murmured  iron- 
ically, "  'The  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal' — 
and  yet  I've  got  to  go  on  bending  the  knee  to  the 
debris!" 

But  when  he  turned  on  his  heel  and  looked  through 
the  door  his  face  brightened,  for  there,  coming  over  the 
short-cut  between  Aunt  Erie  Toppit's  and  her  own 
home,  was  Glory,  carrying  a  basket  over  which  was 
tied  a  bit  of  jute  sacking. 

She  came  on  lightly  and  halted  outside  his  thresh- 
old. 

"I'm  not  comin'  visitin'  you,  Mr.  John  Spurrier," 
she  announced  gravely  despite  the  twinkle  in  her  eyes. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    167 

"I'm  bent  on  a  more  seemly  matter,  but  I'm  crossin' 
your  property  an'  I  hope  you'll  forgive  the  trespass." 

"Since  it's  you,"  he  acceded  in  the  same  mock  seri- 
ousness, "I'll  grant  you  the  right  of  way.  You  paid 
the  toll  when  you  let  me  have  a  glimpse  of  you." 

"And  this  is  your  house,"  she  went  on  musingly. 
"And  I've  never  seen  inside  its  door.  It  seems  strange, 
somehow,  doesn't  it?" 

Spurrier  laughed.  "Now  that  you're  here,"  he  sug- 
gested, "you  might  as  well  hold  an  inspection.  It's 
daylight  and  we  can  dispense  with  a  chaperon  for  ten 
minutes." 

She  nodded  and  laughed  too.  "I  guess  the  granny- 
folk  would  go  tongue  wagging  if  they  found  it  out. 
Anyhow,  I'm  going  to  peek  in  for  just  a  minute." 

She  stepped  lightly  up  to  the  threshold  and  looked 
inside,  and  the  slanting  shaft  from  the  window  fell 
full  on  the  new  photograph  of  Vivien  Martin,  so  that 
it  stood  out  in  the  dim  interior  emphasized  by  the 
flash  of  its  silver  frame. 

Glory  went  over  and  studied  the  face  with  a  some- 
what cryptic  expression,  but  she  made  no  comment 
and  at  the  door  she  announced: 

"I'll  be  goin'  on.  You  can  have  three  guesses  what 
I've  got  in  this  basket." 

But  Spurrier,  catching  sight  of  a  bronze  tail-quill 
glinting  between  the  bars  of  the  container,  spoke  with 
prompt  certainty. 

"One  guess  will  be  enough.  It's  one  of  those  car- 
rier pigeons  that  Uncle  Jimmy  Litchfield  gave  you." 

"You  peeped  before  you  guessed,"  she  accused. 
"I'm  going  to  leave  it  with  Aunt  Erie  and  let  her  take 
it  to  Carnettsville  with  her  to-morrow  and  set  it  free." 


168    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"Compare  your  watches,"  advised  the  man,  "and 
get  her  to  note  the  time  when  she  opens  the  basket. 
Then  you  can  time  the  flight." 

Glory  shook  her  head  and  laughed.  "I  don't  own 
any  watch,"  she  reminded  him.  "And  even  if  I  did  I 
misdoubt  if  Aunt  Erie  would  have  anything  to  com- 
pare it  with — unless  she  carried  her  alarm  clock  along 
with  her." 

"Wait  a  minute,"  admonished  the  man,  as  he  loos- 
ened the  strap  of  his  wrist  watch,  "I've  two  as  it  hap- 
pens— and  a  clock  besides.  You  keep  this  one  and 
give  Aunt  Erie  my  other.  I'll  get  it  for  you  and  set  it 
so  that  they'll  be  together  to  the  second." 

He  wheeled  then  and  went  into  the  room  at  the 
back  and  for  a  few  minutes,  bachelor-like  he  rum- 
maged and  searched  for  the  time-piece  upon  which  he 
had  supposed  he  could  lay  his  ringers  in  the  dark. 

Yet  Spurrier's  thought  was  not  wholly  and  singly 
upon  the  adventure  of  timing  the  flight  of  a  carrier 
pigeon.  In  it  there  lurked  a  sense  of  half-guilty  un- 
easiness, which  would  have  been  lighter  had  Glory 
asked  some  question  when  she  gazed  on  the  picture 
which  sat  in  a  seeming  place  of  honor  at  the  center  of 
his  room.  Her  silence  on  the  subject  had  seemed 
casual  and  unimportant,  yet  his  intuition  told  him 
that  had  it  been  genuinely  so,  she  would  have  de- 
manded with  child-like  interest  to  be  told  who  the 
woman  might  be  with  the  high  tilted  chin  and  the  rope 
of  pearls  on  her  throat.  The  taciturnity  had  sprung, 
he  fancied,  less  from  indifference  than  from  a  fear 
of  questioning,  and  when  he  came  quietly  to  the  door, 
he  stood  there  for  a  moment,  then  drew  back  where 
he  would  not  be  so  plainly  visible. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     169 

For  Glory  had  returned  to  the  table  and  stood  with 
her  eyes  riveted  on  the  framed  portrait.  Unconscious 
of  being  observed  her  face  was  no  longer  guarded  of 
betrayal,  and  in  the  swift  expressiveness  of  her  deli- 
cate features  the  man  read  a  gamut  and  vortex  of  emo- 
tion as  eloquent  as  words.  The  jealousy  which  her 
pride  sought  to  veto,  the  doubt  which  her  faith  strove 
to  deny,  the  realization  of  her  own  self-confessed  in- 
feriority in  parallel  with  this  woman's  aristocratic 
poise  and  cynical  smile,  flitted  in  succession  across  the 
face  of  the  mountain  girl  and  declared  themselves  in 
her  eyes. 

For  an  instant  the  small  hands  clenched  and  the 
lips  stirred  and  the  pupils  blazed  with  hot  fires,  so  that 
the  man  could  almost  read  the  words  that  she  shaped 
without  sound:  "He's  mine — he  ain't  your'n — an'  I 
ain't  goin'  ter  give  him  up  ter  ye!" 

Spurrier  remembered  how  she  had  declared  she 
would  almost  rather  see  him  die  than  surrender  him  to 
another  girl. 

Then  out  of  the  face  the  passion  faded  and  the  deep 
eyes  widened  to  a  suffering  like  that  of  despair.  The 
sweetly  curved  lips  drooped  in  an  ineffable  wistfulness 
and  the  smooth  throat  worked  spasmodically,  while 
the  hands  went  up  and  covered  the  face. 

Spurrier  drew  back  into  the  room  into  which  Glory 
could  not  see,  and  then  in  warning  of  his  coming 
spoke  aloud  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice.  "I've  found 
it,"  he  declared.  "It  was  hiding  out  from  me — that 
watch." 

When,  after  that  preface,  he  came  back,  Glory  was 
standing  again  in  the  doorway  and  as  she  turned,  she 


170    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

presented  a  face  from  which  had  been  banished  the 
storm  of  her  recent  agitation. 

He  handed  her  the  watch  which  she  took  with  a 
steady  hand,  and  a  brief  but  cheery,  "Farewell." 

As  she  started  away  Spurrier  braced  himself  with  a 
strong  effort  and  inquired:  "Glory,  didn't  you  have 
any  question  to  ask  me — about  the  girl — in  the 
frame?" 

She  halted  in  the  path  and  stood  looking  down.  Her 
lowered  lids  hid  her  eyes,  but  he  thought  her  cheeks 
paled  a  shade.  Then  she  shook  her  head. 

"Not  unless  it's  something — you  want  to  tell — 
without  my  asking,"  she  announced  steadfastly. 

For  over  a  week  he  had  struggled  to  bring  himself 
to  his  confession  and  had  failed.  Now  a  sudden  im- 
pulse assured  him  that  it  would  never  be  easier ;  that 
every  delay  would  make  it  harder  and  blacken  him 
with  a  heavier  seeming  of  treason.  Vivien's  portrait 
served  as  a  fortuitous  cue,  and  he  must  avail  himself 
of  it. 

This  was  the  logical  time  and  place,  when  silence 
would  be  only  an  unuttered  lie  and  when  procrastina- 
tion would  strip  him  of  even  his  residue  of  self-re- 
spect. To  wait  for  an  easy  occasion  was  to  hope  for 
the  impossible  and  to  act  with  as  craven  a  spirit  as 
to  falter  when  the  bugle  sounded  a  charge. 

Yet  he  remained  so  long  silent  that  Glory,  looking 
up  and  reading  the  hard-wrung  misery  on  his  face  and 
the  stiff  movement  of  the  lips  that  made  nothing  of 
their  efforts,  knew,  in  advance,  the  tenor  of  the  un- 
spoken message. 

She  closed  her  eyes  as  if  to  shut  out  some  sudden 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    171 

glare  too  painful  to  be  borne,  and  then  in  a  quietly 
courageous  voice  she  helped  him  out. 

"You  do  want  to  tell  me,  Jack.  You  want  to  take 
back — what  you  said — over  there — don't  you?" 

Spurrier  moistened  his  lips,  with  his  tongue.  "God 
knows,"  he  burst  out  vehemently,  "I  don't  want  to 
take  back  one  syllable  of  what  I  said — about  loving 
you." 

"What  is  it,  then?" 

"Come  inside,  please,"  he  pleaded.  "I'll  try  to  ex- 
plain." 

He  went  stumblingly  ahead  of  her  and  set  a  chair 
beside  the  table  and  then  he  leaned  toward  her  and 
sought  for  words. 

"I  love  you,  Glory,"  he  fervently  declared.  "I  love 
you  as  I  didn't  suppose  I  could  love  any  one.  To  me 
you  are  music  and  starlight — but  I  guess  I'm  almost 
engaged  to  her."  He  jerked  his  head  rebelliously  to- 
ward the  portrait. 

Glory  was  numb  except  for  a  dull,  very  present 
ache  that  started  in  her  heart  and  filled  her  to  her 
finger  tips,  and  she  made  no  answer. 

"Her  father,"  Spurrier  forced  himself  on,  "is  a 
great  financier.  I'm  his  man.  I'm  a  little  cog  in  a  big 
machine.  It's  been  practically  understood  that  I  was 
to  become  his  son-in-law — his  successor.  I'm  too  deep 
in,  to  pull  out.  It's  like  a  soldier  in  the  thick  of  a 
campaign.  I've  got  to  go  through." 

That  seemed  an  easier  and  kinder  thing  to  say  than 
that  she  herself  was  not  qualified  for  full  admittance 
into  the  world  of  his  larger  life. 

"You  knew  this — the  other  day — as  well  as  now," 


172    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

she  reminded  him,  speaking  in  a  stunned  voice,  yet 
without  anger. 

"So  help  me  God,  Glory — I  had  forgotten — every- 
thing but — you." 

"And  now,"  she  half  whispered  in  a  dulled  mono- 
tone, "you  remember  all  the  rest." 

She  sat  there  with  the  basket  on  the  puncheon  floor 
at  her  feet,  and  her  fingers  twisted  themselves  tautly 
together.  Her  lips,  parted  and  drooping,  gave  her 
delicate  face  a  stamp  of  dumb  suffering,  and  Spur- 
rier's arms  ached  to  go  comfortingly  around  her,  but 
he  held  himself  rigid  while  the  silence  lengthened. 
The  old  clock  on  the  mantel  ticked  clamorously  and 
outside  the  calls  of  the  bobwhites  seemed  to  grow 
louder  and  nearer  until,  half -consciously,  Spurrier 
noted  their  insistence. 

Then  faintly,  Glory  said:  "You  didn't  make  me 
any  promise.  If  you  had — I'd  give  it  back  to  you." 

She  rose  unsteadily  and  stood  gathering  her 
strength,  and  Spurrier,  struggling  against  the  impulse 
which  assailed  him  like  a  madness  to  throw  down  the 
whole  structure  of  his  past  and  designed  future  and 
sweep  her  into  his  arms,  stood  with  a  metal-like  rigid- 
ity of  posture. 

Whatever  his  ultimate  decision  might  be,  he  kept 
telling  himself,  no  decision  reached  by  surrender  to 
such  tidal  emotion  at  a  moment  of  equinox  could  be 
trusted.  Glory  herself  would  not  trust  it  long. 

So  while  the  room  remained  voiceless  and  the  minds 
of  the  man  and  the  girl  were  rocking  in  the  swirl  of 
their  feelings,  the  physical  senses  themselves  seemed, 
instead  of  inert,  preternaturally  keen — and  something 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    173 

came  to  Spurrier's  ears  which  forced  its  way  to  his 
attention  through  the  barrier  of  his  abstraction. 

Never  had  the  calls  of  the  quail  been  so  frequent 
and  incessant  before,  but  this  sound  was  different,  as 
though  someone  in  the  nearby  tangle  had  stumbled  and 
in  the  effort  to  catch  himself  had  caught  and  shaken 
the  leafage. 

So  the  man  went  to  the  door  and  stood  looking  out. 

For  a  moment  he  remained  there  framed  and  ex- 
posed as  if  painted  upon  a  target,  and — so  close  that 
they  seemed  to  come  together — two  rifles  spoke,  and 
two  bullets  came  whining  into  the  house.  One  im- 
bedded itself  with  a  soggy  thud  in  the  squared  logs 
of  the  rear  wall  but  one,  more  viciously  directed  by 
the  chances  of  its  course,  struck  full  in  the  center  of 
the  glass  that  covered  the  pictured  face  of  Vivien 
Harrison  and  sent  the  portrait  clattering  and  shat- 
tered to  the  floor. 

In  an  instant  Spurrier  had  leaped  back,  once  more 
miraculously  saved,  and  slammed  the  door,  but  while 
he  was  dropping  the  stanch  bar  into  its  sockets,  a  crash 
of  glass  and  fresh  roars  from  another  direction  told 
him  that  he  was  also  being  fired  upon  through  the 
window.  That  meant  that  the  house  was  surrounded. 

"Who  are  they,  Jack?"  gasped  the  girl,  shocked  by 
that  unwarned  fusillade  into  momentary  forgetfulness 
of  everything,  except  that  her  lover  was  beset  by 
enemies,  and  the  man  who  was  reaching  for  his  rifle, 
and  whose  eyes  had  hardened  into  points  of  flint, 
shook  his  head. 

"Whoever  they  are,"  he  answered,  "they  want  me 
— only  me — but  it  would  be  death  for  you  to  go  out 
through  the  door." 


174    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

He  drew  her  to  a  shadowed  corner  out  of  line  with 
both  door  and  window,  and  seized  her  passionately  in 
his  arms. 

"If  we — can't  have  each  other "  he  declared 

tensely,  "I  don't  want  life.  You  said  you'd  almost 
rather  see  me  killed  than  lose  me  to  another  woman. 
Now,  listen!" 

Holding  her  close  to  his  breast,  he  drew  a  deep 
breath  and  his  narrowed  eyes  softened  into  something 
like  contentment. 

"If  you  tried  to  go  out  first,  you'd  die  before  they 
recognized  you.  They  think  I'm  alone  here  and  they'll 
shoot  at  the  first  movement.  But  if  /  go  out  first  and 
fight  as  long  as  I  can  then  they'll  be  satisfied  and  the 
way  will  be  clear  for  you." 

She  threw  back  her  head  and  her  hysterical  laugh 
was  scornful. 

"Clear  for  me  after  you're  dead!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Hev  ye  got  two  guns?  We'll  both  go  out  alive  or 
else  neither  one  of  us." 

Then  suddenly  she  drew  away  from  him,  and  he 
saw  her  hurriedly  scribbling  on  a  scrap  of  paper.  Out- 
side it  was  quiet  again. 

Glory  folded  the  small  sheet  and  took  the  pigeon 
from  its  basket  and  then,  for  the  first  time,  Spurrier, 
who  had  forgotten  the  bird,  divined  her  intent. 

He  was  busying  himself  with  laying  out  cartridges, 
and  preparing  for  a  siege,  and  when  he  looked  up 
again  she  stood  with  the  bird  against  her  cheek,  just 
as  she  had  held  the  dead  quail  on  that  first  day. 

But  before  he  could  interfere  she  had  drawn  near 
the  window  and  he  saw  that  to  reach  the  broken  pane 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     175 

and  liberate  the  pigeon  she  must,  for  a  moment,  stand 
exposed. 

He  leaped  for  her  with  a  shout  of  warning,  but  she 
had  straightened  and  thrust  the  bird  out,  and  then  to 
the  accompaniment  of  a  horrible  uproar  of  musketry 
that  drowned  his  own  outcry  he  saw  her  fall  back. 

Spurrier  was  instantly  on  his  knees  lifting  the 
drooping  head,  and  as  her  lids  flickered  down  she 
whispered  with  a  pallid  smile: 

"The  bird's  free.  He'll  carry  word  home — if  ye  kin 
jest  hold  'em  back  fer  a  spell  and " 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  window  through  whose  broken  pane  Glory 
had  dispatched  her  feathered  messenger  could 
not  be  seen  into  from  the  exterior.  That  was 
a  temporary  handicap  for  the  besiegers  and  one  upon 
which,  in  all  their  forethought,  they  had  not  calcu- 
lated. It  happened  that  at  this  hour  of  the  afternoon 
the  slanting  sun  struck  blindingly  upon  the  glass  that 
still  remained  unbroken  and  confused  the  ambushed 
eyes  that  raked  the  place  from  advantageous  points 
along  the  upper  slopes. 

So  when  Glory  had  risen  there  for  an  instant, 
against  the  window  itself,  the  vigilant  assassins  had 
been  able  to  make  out  only  the  unidentified  shadow  of 
a  figure  moving  there,  and  upon  that  figure,  at  point- 
blank  range,  they  had  loosed  their  volley.  Whose  fig- 
ure it  was  they  could  not  tell,  and  since  they  believed 
their  intended  victim  to  be  alone  they  did  not  question. 
In  the  confusion  of  the  instant,  with  the  glare  on  win- 
dowpanes,  they  missed  the  spot  of  light  that  rose 
phcenixlike  as  the  pigeon  took  flight.  The  frightened 
bird  mounted  skyward  unnoted  and  flustered  by  the 
bellowing  of  so  much  gunnery. 

But  Spurrier's  shout  of  horror  was  heard  by  the  be- 
siegers and  misinterpreted  as  a  cry  wrung  from  him 
under  a  mortal  wound. 

The  assailants  had  not  seen  nor  suspected  Glory's  ap- 
proach because  she  had  come  from  the  front,  and  had 

176 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     177 

arrived  before  they,  drawing  in  from  the  rear  and 
sides,  had  reached  their  stations  commanding  a  com- 
plete outlook.  They  had  assumed  their  victim  to  be 
in  solitary  possession  and  now  they  also  assumed  him 
to  be  helpless — perhaps  already  dead. 

Yet  they  waited,  following  long-revered  precepts 
of  wariness,  before  going  onward  across  the  open 
stretch  of  the  dooryard  for  an  ultimate  investigation. 
He  might  die  slowly — and  hard.  He  might  have  left 
in  him  enough  fight  to  take  a  vengeful  toll  of  the  on- 
coming attackers — and  they  could  afford  to  make  haste 
slowly. 

So  they  settled  down  in  their  several  hiding  places 
and  remained  as  inconspicuous  as  grass  burrowing 
field  mice.  The  forest  cathedral  which  they  defiled 
seemed  lifeless  in  the  hushed  stillness  of  the  afternoon 
as  the  sun  rode  down  toward  its  setting. 

John  Spurrier,  inside  the  house,  living  where  he  was 
supposed  to  be  dead,  at  first  made  no  sound  that  car- 
ried out  to  them  across  the  little  interval  of  space. 

He  was  kneeling  on  the  floor  with  the  girl's  head 
cradled  on  his  knees  and  in  his  throat  sounded  only 
smothering  gasps  of  inarticulate  despair.  These  low 
utterances  were  animal-like  and  wrung  him  with  the 
agonies  of  heartbreak.  He  thought  that  she  must  have 
died  just  after  the  whisper  and  the  smile  with  which 
she  had  announced  her  success  in  her  effort  to  save 
him. 

Kneeling  there  with  the  bright  head  inert  on  his 
corduroy-clad  knee,  he  fancied  that  the  smile  still 
lingered  on  her  lips  even  after  she  had  laid  down  her 
life  for  him  five  minutes  from  the  time  he  had  for- 
sworn her. 


178    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Now  that  she  was  gone  and  he  about  to  go,  he  could 
recognize  her  as  a  serene  and  splendid  star  shining 
briefly  above  the  lurid  shoddiness  of  his  own  grasping 
life — and  the  star  had  set. 

At  first  a  profoundly  stunned  and  torpid  feeling 
held  him  numb;  a  blunt  agony  of  loss  and  guilt,  but 
slowly  out  of  that  wretched  paralysis  emerged  another 
thought.  He  was  helpless  to  bring  her  back  and  that 
futility  would  drive  him  mad  unless  out  of  it  could 
come  some  motive  of  action. 

She  was  not  only  dead,  but  dead  by  the  hands  of 
murderers  who  had  come  after  him — and  all  that  re- 
mained was  the  effort  to  avenge  her.  Like  waters 
moving  slowly  at  first  but  swelling  into  freshet  power, 
wrath  and  insatiable  thirst  for  vengeance  swept  him 
to  a  sort  of  madness. 

Here  he  was  kneeling  over  the  unstirring  woman  he 
had  loved  while  out  there  were  the  murder  hirelings 
who  had  brought  about  the  tragedy.  Her  closed  and 
unaccusing  eyes,  exhorting  him  as  passionate  utter- 
ances could  not  have  done,  incited  him  to  a  frenzy. 
At  least  some  of  these  culprits  must  go  unshriven,  and 
by  his  own  hand  to  the  death  that  inevitably  awaited 
himself. 

And  as  Spurrier's  flux  of  molten  emotions  seethed 
about  that  determination  a  solidifying  transition  came 
over  him  and  his  brain  cleared  of  the  blind  spots  of 
fury  into  the  coherency  of  a  plan. 

Out  there  they  would  wait  for  a  while  to  test  the 
completeness  of  their  success.  If  he  gave  way  to  his 
passion  and  challenged  them  as  inclination  clamored 
to  do,  they  would  dispatch  him  at  leisure. 

Just  now  he  was  willing  enough  to  die,  but  entirely 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    179 

unwilling  to  die  alone.  He  craved  company  and  a  red 
journey  for  that  final  crossing.  So  once  more  he 
looked  down  into  the  face  on  which  there  was  no  stir 
of  animation,  then  very  gently  bent  and  kissed  thi 
quiet  lips. 

"If  you  could  come  back  to  me,"  he  chokingly 
whispered,  "I'd  unsay  everything,  except  that  I  love 
you.  But  if  there's  a  meeting  place  beyond,  I'll  join 
you  soon — when  I've  made  them  pay  for  you." 

He  lifted  her  tenderly  and,  through  his  agitation, 
came  a  sudden  realization  of  how  light  she  was  as 
he  laid  her  gently  on  his  army  cot.  After  that  he 
picked  up  his  rifle  and  bulged  out  his  pockets  with 
cartridges. 

The  cockloft  above  his  room,  which  was  reached 
by  a  ladder,  had  windows  which  were  really  only  loop- 
holes and  from  there  he  could  better  see  into  the 
tangle  that  sheltered  his  enemies. 

He  entertained  no  vain  hope  of  rescue.  He  asked 
for  no  deliverance.  The  story  drew  to  its  ending  and 
he  meant  to  cap  it  with  the  one  climax  to  which  the 
last  half  hour  had  left  anything  of  significance.  Since 
small  things  become  vastly  portentous  when  written 
into  the  margin  between  life  and  death,  he  hoped  that 
before  he  died  he  might  recognize  the  face  of  at  least 
one  of  the  men  whom  he  meant  to  take  with  him 
across  the  River  of  Eternity. 

So,  dedicating  himself  to  that  motive,  he  climbed 
the  ladder. 

Peering  out  through  first  one  and  then  the  other 
of  the  loopholes  of  the  cockloft,  he  waited,  and  it 
seemed  to  him  that  he  waited  eternally.  He  began  to 
fear  that  his  self-sure  attackers  would  content  them- 


180    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

selves  with  an  inactive  vigil  and  that  after  all  he  was  to 
be  cheated. 

The  sun  was  westering.  The  shadows  were  elon- 
gating. The  sounds  through  the  woods  were  subtly 
changing  from  the  voices  of  day  to  those  of  approach- 
ing night. 

Still  he  waited. 

Outside  also  they  were  waiting;  waiting  to  make 
sure  that  it  was  safe  to  go  in  and  confirm  their  pre- 
sumption that  he  had  fallen. 

But  when  Spurrier  had,  in  a  little  time  as  the  watch 
recorded  it,  served  out  his  purgatorial  sentence,  he 
sensed  a  stir  in  the  massed  banks  of  the  laurel  and 
thrust  his  rifle  barrel  outward  in  preparation  for  wel- 
come. A  moment  afterward  he  saw  a  hat  with  a 
downturned  brim — a  coat  with  an  upturned  collar — a 
pair  of  shoulders  that  hunched  slowly  forward  with 
almost  inperceptible  movement.  His  mind  had  be- 
come a  calculating  machine  now,  functioning  with  de- 
liberate surety. 

The  unrecognizable  figure  out  there  was  a  hundred 
yards  away  and  the  rifle  he  held  would  bore  through 
the  head  under  the  hat  crown  at  that  range  as  a  gimlet 
bores  through  a  marked  spot  on  soft  pine. 

But  a  single  shot  would  end  the  show.  No  one  else 
would  appear  and  even  the  dead  man  would  be  hauled 
back  by  his  heels — unidentified.  He  would  wait  until 
he  could  make  his  bag  of  game  more  worth  dying  for 
— more  worth  her  dying  for ! 

Other  ages  seemed  to  elapse  before  the  butternut 
figure  showed  stretched  at  length  in  the  tall  grass  out- 
side the  thicket  and  a  second  hat  appeared.  Still  Spur- 
rier held  his  fire  until  three  hats  were  visible  and  the 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    181 

first  man,  having  crawled  to  a  tree  trunk,  had  half 
risen. 

He  realized  that  he  could  not  much  longer  hold  it. 
At  any  moment  they  might  rush  the  place  in  force 
of  numbers,  and  from  more  than  one  side,  smothering 
his  defense — and  once  in  contact  with  the  walls  they 
would  need  only  a  lighted  torch. 

So  he  sighted  with  target-range  precision  and  fired, 
following  the  initial  effort  with  snap-shots  at  the  sec- 
ond and  third  visible  heads. 

He  had  the  brief  satisfaction  of  seeing  the  first  man 
plunge  forward,  clawing  at  the  earth  with  hands  that 
dropped  their  weapon.  He  saw  the  second  stumble, 
recover  himself,  stumble  again  and  then  start  crawling 
backward  with  a  disabled,  crablike  locomotion,  while 
the  third  figure  turned,  unharmed,  and  ran  to  cover. 
But  at  the  same  moment  he  heard  shouts  and  shots 
from  the  other  side  which  called  him  instantly  to  the 
opposite  loophole  and,  once  there,  kept  him  pumping 
his  rifle  against  what  appeared  to  be  a  charge  of  con- 
fused figures  that  he  had  no  leisure  to  inspect.  They, 
too,  fell  back  under  the  vigor  of  his  punishment,  and 
Spurrier  found  himself  reloading  in  a  silence  that  had 
come  as  suddenly  as  the  noise  of  the  onrush. 

He  had  shot  down  two  assailants,  but  both  had  been 
retrieved  beyond  sight  by  their  confederates,  and  the 
besieged  man  groaned  with  a  realization  of  defeated 
purpose.  The  sun  was  low  now  and  soon  it  would  be 
too  dark  to  see.  Then  the  trappers  would  close  in  and 
take  the  rat  out  of  the  trap.  What  he  failed  to  do 
while  daylight  lasted,  he  would  never  do. 

In  only  one  respect  did  his  judgment  fail  him  as  he 
sought  to  forecast  the  immediate  future.  It  seemed  to 


182    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

him  that  he  had  spent  hours  there  in  the  cockloft, 
whereas  perhaps  thirty  minutes  had  elapsed. 

He  had  been  thinking  of  the  pigeon,  but  had  put 
aside  hope  as  to  succor  from  that  agency.  Old  Cap- 
peze  was  not  interested  in  pigeons.  The  bird  would 
go  to  roost  in  its  dovecote  and  sit  all  night  with  its 
head  tucked  placidly  under  its  wing — and  the  plea  for 
help  unread  on  its  leg — and  the  lawyer  would  never 
think  of  looking  into  the  dovecote. 

Now,  since  he  had  failed  and  must  die  unavenged — 
for  the  wounding  of  two  unidentified  enemies  failed 
of  satisfaction — he  must  utilize  what  was  left  of  life 
intensively.  Once  more  before  he  died,  he  wanted  to 
see  the  face  of  the  woman  whom  he  had  forsworn; 
the  woman  who  was  worth  infinitely  more  than  the 
tawdry  regards  for  which  he  had  given  her  up. 

So  he  went  down  the  ladder  and  knelt  beside  the  cot. 

He  laid  his  ear  close  to  the  bosom  and  could  have 
sworn  that  it  fluttered  to  a  half  heartbeat. 

Suddenly  Spurrier  closed  his  hands  over  his  face 
and  for  the  first  time  in  years  he  prayed. 

"Almighty  Father,"  he  pleaded,  "give  her  back  to 
me!  Give  me  one  other  chance — and  exact  whatever 
price  Thy  wisdom  designates." 

To  Toby  Austin's  meager  farm,  which  abutted  on 
that  of  Dyke  Cappeze,  that  afternoon  had  trudged 
Bud  Hawkins.  In  all  the  mountain  region  thereabout 
his  name  was  well  known  and  any  man  of  whom  you 
had  asked  information  would  have  told  you  that  Bud 
was  "the  poorest  and  the  righteousest  man  that  ever 
rode  circuit." 

For  Bud  was  among  other  things  a  preacher.     To 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     183 

use  his  own  words,  "I  farms  some,  I  heals  bodies  some, 
an'  I  gospels  some."  And  in  each  of  his  avocations  he 
followed  faithfully  the  lights  of  his  conscience. 

His  own  farm  lay  a  long  way  off,  and  now  he  was 
here  as  a  visitor.  This  afternoon  he  fared  over  to 
the  house  of  Dyke  Cappeze  as  was  his  custom  when  in 
that  neighborhood.  He  regarded  Cappeze  as  a 
righteous  man  and  a  "wrastler  with  all  evil,"  and  he 
came  bearing  the  greetings  of  a  brotherhood  of  effort. 

The  sun  was  low  when  he  arrived,  and  the  old 
lawyer  confessed  to  a  mild  anxiety  because  of  Glory's 
failure  to  return  before  the  hour  which  her  clean-cut 
regularity  fixed  as  the  time  of  starting  the  supper 
preparations. 

"She  took  a  carrier  pigeon  over  to  Aunt  Erie  Top- 
pit's,"  explained  Dyke,  "and  I  looked  for  her  back 
before  now." 

"I  sometimes  'lows.  Brother  Cappeze,"  asserted  the 
visitor  with  an  enthusiasm  of  interest,  "thet  in  these 
hyar  days  of  sin  when  God  don't  show  Hisself  in  signs 
an'  miracles  no  more,  erbout  ther  clostest  thing  ter  a 
miracle  we've  got  left,  air  ther  fashion  one  of  them 
birds  kin  go  up  in  ther  air  from  any  place  ye  sots  hit 
free  at  an'  foller  ther  Almighty's  finger  pointin'  home." 

Cappeze  told  him  that  there  was  just  now  only  one 
pigeon  in  the  dovecote,  where  the  pair  belonged,  but 
that  one  he  offered  to  show,  and  idly  be  led  the  way 
to  the  place  back  above  the  henroosts. 

It  is,  however,  difficult  for  any  man  to  sink  his  own 
absorptions  in  those  of  another,  and  so  it  fell  about 
that  on  the  way  Cappeze  stopped  at  the  barn  he  was 
building  and  which  was  not  yet  quite  complete. 

"Brother  Hawkins,"  he  said,  "as  we  go  along  I  want 


184    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

to  show  you  the  barn  I've  been  planning  for  years — 
and  at  last  have  nearly  realized." 

In  the  crude,  unfinished  life  of  the  hills,  lean-tos 
and  even  rock  ledges  are  pressed  into  service  as  barns, 
but  the  man  who  has  erected  an  ample  and  sound  struc- 
ture for  such  a  purpose,  stamps  himself  as  one  who 
"has  things  hung  up,"  which  is  the  mountain  equivalent 
for  wealth. 

"That  barn,"  explained  Cappeze,  pausing  before  it 
in  expansiveness  of  mood,  "is  a  thing  I've  wanted  ever 
since  I  moved  over  here.  A  good  barn  stands  for  a 
farm  run  without  sloven  make-shift — and  that  one 
cost  me  well-nigh  as  much  money  as  my  dwelling 
house.  I  reckon  it  sounds  foolish,  but  to  me  that 
building  means  a  dream  come  true  after  long  waiting. 
I've  skimped  myself  saving  to  build  it,  and  it's  the 
apple  of  my  eye.  If  I  saw  harm  come  to  it,  I  almost 
think  it  would  hurt  me  more  than  to  lose  the  house  I 
live  in." 

"I  reckon  no  harm  won't  come  ter  hit,  Brother  Cap- 
peze," reassured  the  other.  "Yit  hit  mout  be  right 
foresighted  to  insure  hit  erginst  fire  an'  tempest." 

"Of  course  I  will — when  it's  finished,"  said  the 
other  as  he  led  the  way  inside,  and  then  as  he  played 
guide,  he  forgot  the  pigeons  and  swelled  with  the  pride 
of  the  builder,  while  time  that  meant  life  and  death 
went  by,  so  that  it  was  quite  a  space  later  that  they 
emerged  again  and  went  on  to  the  destination  which 
had  first  called  them. 

But  having  arrived  there,  the  elder  man  halted  and 
his  face  shadowed  to  a  disturbed  perplexity. 

"That's  strange,"  he  murmured.  "One  pigeon's 
inside — the  hen — and  there's  the  cock  trying  to  get  in. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     185 

It's  the  bird  Glory  took  with  her.  It  must  have 
gotten  away  from  her." 

"  'Pears  like  ter  me,"  volunteered  the  preacher, 
"hit's  got  some  fashion  of  paper  hitched  on  ter  one 
leg.  Don't  ye  dis'arn  hit,  Brother  Cappeze?" 

Cappeze  started  as  his  eyes  confirmed  the  sugges- 
tion. Hurriedly  he  ran  up  the  ladder  to  the  resting 
plank  where  the  bird  crooned  and  preened  itself, 
plainly  asking  for  admittance  to  its  closed  place  of 
habitation.  Perhaps  his  excited  manner  alarmed  the 
pigeon,  which  would  alight  on  Glory's  shoulder  with- 
out a  qualm,  for  as  the  man  reached  out  his  hand  for 
it,  it  flutteringly  eluded  him  and  took  again  to  the  air. 

But  now  his  curiosity  was  aroused.  Possibly  Glory 
meant  to  stay  the  night  at  Aunt  Erie's  and  had  sent 
him  her  announcement  in  this  form.  He  went  for 
grain  and  scattered  it,  and  after  repeated  efforts  suc- 
ceeded in  capturing  the  messenger. 

But  when  he  loosened  the  paper  and  read  it  his 
face  went  abruptly  white  and  from  his  lips  escaped  an 
excited  "Great  God!" 

He  thrust  the  note  into  the  preacher's  hand  and 
rushed  indoors,  emerging  after  a  few  minutes  with 
eyes  wildly  lit  and  a  rifle  in  his  hands.  Bud  Hawkins 
understood,  for  he  had  read  in  the  interval  the  scribbled 
words : 

Stopped  at  Jack  Spurrier's  house.  It's  surrounded.  Men 
are  shooting  at  ws  on  all  sides. 

Dyke  Cappeze  was  the  one  man  to  whom  Spurrier 
had  confided  both  the  circumstances  of  his  mysterious 
waylaying  and  the  matter  of  the  rattlesnakes  and  now 


186    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

the  father  was  not  discounting  the  peril  into  which  his 
daughter  had  strayed. 

"I'm  going  on  ahead,  Brother  Hawkins,"  he  an- 
nounced. "I  want  you  to  send  out  a  general  alarm  and 
to  follow  me  with  all  the  armed  men  you  can  round 
up."  There  he  halted  in  momentary  bewilderment.  In 
that  sparsely  peopled  territory  the  hurried  mustering 
of  an  adequate  force  on  such  short  order  was  in  itself 
almost  an  impossibility.  There  were  no  means  of  com- 
munication. Abruptly,  the  old  lawyer  wheeled  and 
pointed  a  thin  and  quivering  index  finger  toward  his 
beloved  barn. 

"There's  just  one  way,"  he  declared  with  stoical 
directness.  "All  my  neighbors  will  come  to  fight  a 
fire.  I've  got  to  set  my  own  barn  to  get  them  here!" 

Five  minutes  later  the  structure  sent  up  its  black 
massed  summons  of  smoke,  shot  with  vermilion,  as 
the  shingles  snapped  and  showed  glowingly  against  the 
black  background  of  vapor,  even  in  the  brightness  of 
the  afternoon. 

Dyke  Cappeze  himself  was  on  his  way,  and  the 
preacher  remaining  behind  was  meeting  and  dispatch- 
ing each  hurried  arrival.  As  he  did  so  his  voice  leaped 
as  it  sometimes  leaped  in  the  zealot's  fervor  of  ex- 
hortation, and  he  sent  the  men  out  into  the  fight  with 
rifle  and  shotgun  as  trenchantly  as  he  expounded 
peace  from  the  pulpit. 

When  a  dozen  men  had  ridden  away,  scattering 
gravel  from  galloping  hoofs,  he  rode  behind  the  saddle 
cantle  of  the  last,  for  it  was  not  his  doctrine  to  hold 
his  hand  when  he  sent  others  into  battle.  Also  he 
might  he  needed  there  as  a  minister,  a  doctor,  or  both. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    18? 

As  sunset  began  to  wane  to  twilight  the  attackers 
who  lay  circled  about  Spurrier's  cabin  found  them- 
selves growing  restive. 

And  inside  John  Spurrier  was  a  man  reanimated  by 
the  faint  signs  of  life  which  he  had  discovered  in 
Glory. 

A  pulse  still  fluttered  in  her  heart,  but  it  throbbed 
flickeringly  and  its  life  spark  was  pallid.  Every  mo- 
ment this  malevolent  pack  held  its  cordon  close  was 
as  surely  a  moment  of  strangling  her  faint  chance  as 
if  their  fingers  had  been  physically  gripping  her  soft 
throat.  And  he  could  only  kneel  futilely  beside  her 
and  wait ! 

From  his  loopholes  upstairs  he  saw  once  more  two 
hats  and  gave  their  wearers  shot  for  shot,  but  when 
they  kept  their  rifles  popping  he  suspected  their  pur- 
pose and  dashed  across  the  floor  in  time  to  send  three 
rapidly  successive  bullets  into  a  little  group  that  had 
detached  itself  from  the  timber  on  that  side  and  was 
creeping  toward  the  house.  One  crawling  body  col- 
lapsed and  lay  sprawling  without  motion.  Two  others 
ran  back  crouching  low  and  were  lost  to  sight. 

So  he  swung  pendulumlike  from  side  to  side,  firing 
and  changing  base,  and  when  his  second  turn  brought 
him  to  the  window  through  which  he  had  shot  his 
man,  he  saw  that  the  body  had  already  been  removed 
from  sight. 


IT  was  a  hopeless  game  and  a  grim  one.    He  could 
not  cover  all  the  defenses  long  in  single-handed 
effort,  and  the  best  he  could  hope  for  was  to  die 
in  ample  companionship.    Now,  two  men  had  reached 
broad-girthed    oaks,    halfway    between    thicket    and 
house.    There  they  were  safe  for  the  next  rush. 

So  this  was  the  end  of  the  matter!  Spurrier  re- 
loaded his  rifle  and  went  down  the  ladder.  Hastily 
he  carried  Glory  into  the  room  at  the  back  and  over- 
turned his  heavy  table  to  serve  as  a  final  barricade. 
He  elected  to  die  here  when  they  swarmed  the  door 
from  which  he  could  no  longer  keep  them,  crowning 
the  battle  with  a  finale  of  punishment  as  they  crowded 
through  the  breach. 

But  the  minutes  dragged  with  irksome  tension.  He 
was  keyed  up  now,  wire-tight,  for  the  finish,  and  yet 
silence  fell  again  and  denied  him  the  relief  of  action. 
To  Spurrier  it  was  like  a  long  and  cruel  delay  imposed 
upon  a  man  standing  blindfolded  and  noosed  on  the 
scaffold  trap.  Then  the  quiet  was  ripped  with  a 
totally  wasteful  fusillade,  as  though  every  attacker 
outside  were  pumping  his  gun  in  a  contest  of  speed 
rather  than  effect. 

Spurrier  smiled  grimly.  Let  them  burn  their 
powder — he  would  have  his  till  they  massed  in  front 
of  his  muzzle  and  the  barrier  fell. 

188 


THE  LAW  OP  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    189 

"When  the  barrier  fell!"  Crouched  there  behind 
the  table  where  he  meant  to  sell  his  life  in  that  brief 
space  that  seemed  long,  the  words  brought  with  them 
the  memory  of  one  of  the  few  poems  that  had  ever 
meant  much  to  him — and  while  he  awaited  death  his 
mind  seized  upon  the  lines — a  funeral  address  in 
soliloquy ! 

"For  the  journey  is  done  and  the  summit  attained, 
And  the  barriers  fall " 

He  strained  his  ears  to  his  listening  and  then 
through  his  head  ran  other  verses: 

"I  was  ever  a  fighter,  so — one  fight  more, 

The  best  and  the  last ! 

I  would  hate  that  Death  bandaged  my  eyes  and  forebore 
And  bade  me  creep  past " 

Was  that  a  battering-ram  against  timber  that  he 
heard?  He  fingered  the  trigger. 

"Then  a  light,  then  thy  breast, 

O  thou  soul  of  my  soul !    I  shall  clasp  thee  again, 
And  with  God  be  the  rest !" 

But  the  door  did  not  fall.  The  rifle  cracking  be- 
came interspersed  with  alarmed  outcries  of  warning 
and  confusion.  He  could  even  hear  the  brush  torn 
with  the  hurried  tramping  of  running  feet,  and  then 
the  pandemonium  abruptly  stopped  dead,  and  after 
a  long  period  of  inheld  breath  there  followed  a  loud 
rapping  on  the  door  and  a  voice  of  agonized  anxiety 
shouted : 


190    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"In  God's  name  open  if  ye're  still  alive.  It's  Cap- 
peze — and  friends!" 

The  psychological  effect  of  that  recognized  voice 
upon  John  Spurrier,  and  of  its  incredible  meaning, 
was  strange  to  the  point  of  grotesquerie.  Its  sound 
carried  a  complete  reversal  of  everything  to  which  his 
mind  had  been  focussed  with  a  tensity  which  had 
keyed  itself  to  the  acceptance  of  a  violent  death,  and 
with  the  reversal  came  reaction.  There  was  no  interim 
of  preparation  for  the  altered  aspect  of  affairs.  It 
was  precisely  as  though  a  runaway  train  furiously 
speeding  to  the  overhang  of  an  unbridged  chasm  had 
suddenly  begun  dashing  in  the  contrary  direction  with 
no  shade  of  lessening  velocity,  and  no  grinding  of 
breaks  to  a  halt  between  time. 

Spurrier  had  taken  no  thought  of  physical  strain. 
He  had  not  known  that  he  was  wearied  with  nerve 
wrack  and  pell-mell  dashing  from  firing  point  to  firing 
point.  He  knew  nothing  of  the  picture  he  made  with 
clothing  torn  from  his  scrambling  rushes  up-ladder 
and  down-ladder  and  his  crouching  and  shifting 
among  the  rough  nail-studded  spaces  of  the  cockloft. 
Of  the  face,  sweat-reeking  and  dust-smeared,  he  had 
no  realization,  but  when  that  voice  called  out  and 
he  knew  that  rescuers  were  clamoring  where  assas- 
sins had  laid  siege,  the  stout  knees  under  him  buckled 
weakly,  and  the  fingers  that  had  fitted  his  rifle  as 
steadily  as  part  of  its  own  metallic  mechanism  became 
so  inert  that  they  could  scarcely  maintain  their  grip 
upon  the  weapon. 

John  Spurrier,  emotionally  stirred  and  agitated  as 
he  had  never  been  in  battle,  because  of  the  limp  figure 
that  lay  under  that  roof,  stood  gulping  and  struggling 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    191 

for  a  lost  voice  with  which  to  give  back  a  reply.  He 
rocked  on  his  feet  and  then,  like  a  drunken  man  went 
slowly  and  unsteadily  forward  to  lift  the  bar  of  the 
door. 

When  he  had  thrown  it  wide  the  rush  of  anxious 
men  halted,  backing  up  instinctively,  as  their  eyes  were 
confused  by  the  inner  murk  and  their  nostrils  assailed 
by  the  acrid  stench  of  nitrate,  from  the  vapors  of 
burnt  powder  that  hung  stiflingly  between  the  walls 
and  ceiling  rafters.  Old  Cappeze  was  at  their  front 
and  when  he  saw  before  him  the  battle  begrimed 
and  drawn  visage  of  the  man,  he  looked  wildly  be- 
yond it  for  the  other  face  that  he  did  not  see,  and  his 
voice  broke  and  rose  in  a  high,  thin  note  that  was 
almost  falsetto  as  he  demanded:  "Where  is  she? 
Where's  Glory?" 

John  Spurrier  sought  to  speak  but  the  best  he  could 
do  was  to  indicate  with  a  gesture  half  appealing  and 
half  despairing  to  the  door  of  the  other  room,  where 
she  lay  on  his  army  cot.  The  father  crossed  its  thresh- 
old ahead  of  him  and  dropped  to  his  knees  there  with 
agonized  eyes,  and  Bud  Hawkins,  the  preacher  and 
physician,  not  sure  yet  in  which  capacity  he  must  act, 
was  bent  at  his  shoulder,  while  Spurrier  exhorted  him 
with  a  recovered  but  tortured  voice,  "In  God's  name, 
make  haste.  There's  only  a  spark  of  life  left." 

From  the  crowd  which  had  followed  and  stood 
massed  about  the  door  came  a  low  but  unmistakable 
smother  of  fury,  as  they  saw  the  unmoving  figure  of 
the  girl,  and  those  at  the  edge  wheeled  and  ran  out- 
ward again  with  the  summary  resoluteness  that  one 
sees  in  hounds  cast  off  at  the  start  of  the  chase. 

Upon     those     who     remained     Brother     Hawkins 


192    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

wheeled  and  swept  out  his  hands  in  a  gesture  of  im- 
perative dismissal. 

"Leave  us  alone,  men,"  he  commanded.  "I  needs 
ter  work  alone  hyar — with  ther  holp  of  Almighty 
God." 

But  he  worked  kneeling,  tearing  away  the  clothing 
over  the  wounded  breast,  and  while  he  did  so  he 
prayed  with  a  fervor  that  was  fiercely  elemental,  yet 
abating  no  whit  of  his  doctor's  efficiency  with  his  sur- 
prisingly deft  hands,  while  his  lips  and  heart  were 
those  of  the  religionist. 

"Almighty  Father  in  Heaven,"  he  pleaded,  "spare 
this  hyar  child  of  Thine  ef  so  be  Thy  wisdom  suffers 
hit." 

There  he  broke  off  and  as  though  a  different  man 
were  speaking,  shot  over  his  shoulder  the  curt  com- 
mand :  "Fotch  me  water  speedily — Because  Almighty 
Father,  she's  done  fell  a  victim  of  evil  men  thet  fears 
Thee  not  in  th'ar  hearts !" 

After  a  little  Brother  Hawkins  dismissed  even  the 
father  and  Spurrier  from  the  room  and  worked  on 
alone,  the  voice  of  his  praying  sounding  over  his 
activity. 

Ten  minutes  later,  in  a  crowded  room,  Bud  Haw- 
kins, preacher  and  physician,  laid  one  hand  on  Spur- 
rier's shoulder  and  the  other  on  Cappeze's. 

"Men,"  he  said  in  a  hushed  voice,  "I  fears  me  ther 
shot  thet  hit  her  was  a  deadener.  Yit  I  kain't  quite 
fathom  hit  nuther.  She's  back  in  her  rightful  senses 
ergin — but  she  don't  seem  ter  want  to  live,  somehow. 
She  won't  put  for'ard  no  effort." 

Spurrier  wheeled  to  face  them  both  and  his  voice 
came  with  tense,  gasping  earnestness. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    193 

"Before  she  dies,  Brother  Hawkins,"  he  pleaded, 
"you're  a  minister  of  the  gospel — I  want  you  to  marry 
us."  He  wheeled  then  on  the  rescuers,  who  stood 
breathing  heavily  from  exertion  and  fight. 

"Two  of  you  men  stay  here  as  wedding  witnesses," 
he  commanded.  "One  of  you  ride  hell-for-leather  to 
the  nearest  telephone  and  call  up  Lexington.  Have 
a  man  start  with  bloodhounds  on  a  special  train.  The 
rest  of  you  get  into  the  timber  and  finecomb  it  for 
some  scrap  of  cloth — or  anything  that  will  give  the 
dogs  a  chance  when  they  get  here." 

Once  more  Spurrier  was  the  officer  in  command, 
and  snappily  his  hearers  sprang  to  obedience,  but  when 
the  place  had  almost  emptied,  the  three  turned  and 
went  into  the  back  room,  and,  kneeling  there  beside 
the  wounded  girl,  Spurrier  whispered: 

"Dearest,  the  preacher  has  come — to  wed  us." 

Glory's  eyes  with  their  deeps  of  color  were  start- 
lingly  vivid  as  they  looked  out  of  the  pallid  face  upon 
which  a  little  while  ago  John  Spurrier  had  believed  the 
white  stamp  of  death  to  be  fixed. 

The  features  themselves,  except  the  eyes,  seemed  to 
have  shrunken  from  weakness  into  wistful  smallness, 
and  if  the  girl  had  returned,  in  the  phrases  of  the 
preacher,  "to  her  rightful  senses"  it  had  been  as  one 
coming  out  of  a  dream  who  realizes  that  she  wakes  to 
heartburnings  which  death  had  promised  to  smooth 
away. 

Now,  as  the  man  stretched  out  his  hand  to  take 
hers  and  drew  a  ring  from  his  own  little  finger,  the 
violet  eyes  on  the  rough  pillow  became  transfigured 
with  a  luminous  and  incredulous  happiness.  But  at 
once  they  clouded  again  with  gravity  and  pain. 


194    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Spurrier  was  offering  to  marry  her  out  of  pity  and 
gratitude.  He  was  seeking  to  pay  a  debt,  and  his 
authoritative  words  were  spoken  from  his  conscience 
and  not  from  his  heart. 

So  the  lips  stirred  in  an  effort  to  speak,  failed  in 
that  and  drooped,  and  weakly  but  with  determination 
Glory  shook  her  head.  She  had  been  willing  to  die  for 
him.  She  could  not  argue  with  him,  but  neither  would 
she  accept  the  perfunctory  amends  that  he  now  came 
proffering. 

Spurrier  rose,  pale,  and  with  a  tremor  of  voice  as 
he  said  to  the  others:  "Please  leave  us  alone — for  a 
few  moments."  Then  when  no  one  was  left  in  the 
room  but  the  girl  on  the  bed  and  the  man  on  his 
knees  beside  it,  he  bent  forward  until  his  eyes  were 
close  to  hers  and  his  words  came  with  a  still  intensity. 

"Glory,  dearest,  though  I  don't  deserve  it,  you've 
confessed  that  you  love  me.  Now  I  claim  the  life  you 
were  willing  to  lay  down  for  me — and  you  can't 
refuse." 

There  was  wistfulness  in  her  smile,  but  through  her 
feebleness  her  resolution  stood  fast  and  the  movement 
of  her  head  was  meant  for  a  shake  of  refusal. 

"But  why,  dear,"  he  argued  desperately,  "why  do 
you  deny  me  when  we  know  there's  only  one  wish  in 
both  our  hearts?" 

His  hands  had  stolen  over  one  of  hers  and  her 
weak  fingers  stirred  caressingly  against  his  own.  Her 
lips  stirred  too,  without  sound,  then  she  lay  in  a  death- 
like quiet  for  a  moment  or  two  summoning  strength 
for  an  effort  at  speech,  and  he,  bending  close,  caught 
the  ghost  of  a  whisper. 

"I  don't  seek  payment      .      fer  what  I  done."     A 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     195 

gasp  caught  her  breath  and  silenced  her  for  a  little 
but  she  overcame  it  and  finished  almost  inaudibly. 
"It  was  .  .  a  free-will  gift." 

John  Spurrier  rose  and  sat  on  the  side  of  the  bed. 
His  voice  was  electrified  by  the  thrill  of  his  feeling; 
a  feeling  purged  of  all  artificiality  by  the  rough 
shoulder  touch  of  death. 

*Tm  asking  another  gift,  now,  Glory;  the  greatest 
gift  of  all.  I'm  asking  yourself.  Don't  try  to  talk — 
only  listen  to  me  because  I  need  you  desperately.  Ex- 
cept for  you  they  would  have  killed  me  to-day — but 
my  life's  not  worth  saving  if  I  lose  you  after  all. 
I'm  two  men,  dearest,  rolled  into  one — and  one  of 
those  men  perhaps  doesn't  deserve  much  consideration, 
but  there's  some  good  in  the  other  and  that  good  can't 
prevail  without  you  any  more  than  a  plant  can  grow 
without  sun." 

With  full  realization,  he  was  pitching  his  whole 
argument  to  the  note  of  his  own  selfish  needs  and 
wishes,  and  yet  he  was  guided  by  a  sure  insight  into 
her  heart.  Brother  Hawkins  had  said  she  had  no 
wish  to  live  and  would  make  no  fight,  and  he  knew 
that  he  might  plead  endlessly  and  in  vain  unless  he 
overcame  her  belief  that  he  was  actuated  merely  by 
pity  for  her.  If  she  could  be  convinced  that  it  was 
genuinely  he  who  needed  her  more  than  she  needed 
him,  her  woman  quality  of  enveloping  in  supporting 
love  the  man  who  leaned  on  her,  would  bring  consent. 

"I  sought  to  strengthen  myself  for  success  in  life," 
he  went  on,  "by  strangling  out  every  human  emotion 
that  stood  in  the  way  of  material  results.  I  serve  men 
who  sneer  at  everything  on  God's  earth  except  the 


196    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

practical,  and  I  had  come  to  the  point  where  I  let  those 
men  shape  me  and  govern  even  my  character." 

She  had  been  listening  with  lowered  lids  and  as  he 
paused,  she  raised  them  and  smiled  wanly,  yet  with- 
out any  sign  of  yielding  to  his  supplications. 

"The  picture  that  you  saw,"  he  swept  on  torrentially, 
"was  that  of  a  girl  whose  father  employs  me.  He's  a 
leader  in  big  affairs  and  to  be  his  son-in-law  meant, 
in  a  business  sense,  to  be  raised  to  royalty.  Vivien 
is  a  splendid  woman  and  yet  I  doubt  if  either  of  us 

has "  he  fumbled  a  bit  for  his  next  words  and  then 

floundered  on  with  self-conscious  awkwardness,  "has 
thought  of  the  other  with  real  sentiment.  Until  now, 
I  haven't  known  what  real  sentiment  meant.  Until 
now  I  haven't  appreciated  the  true  values.  I  dis- 
covered them  out  there  in  the  road  when  you  came 
into  my  arms — and  into  my  heart.  From  now  on  my 
arms  will  always  ache  for  you — and  my  heart  will  be 
empty  without  you.' ' 

"But — ,"  Glory's  eyes  were  deeper  than  ever  as  she 
whispered  laboriously,  "but  if  you're  plighted  to 
her " 

"I'm  not,"  he  protested  hotly.  "There  is  no  en- 
gagement except  a  sort  of  understanding  with  her 
father:  a  sort  of  condescending  and  tacit  willingness 
on  his  part  to  let  his  successor  be  his  son-in-law  as 
well." 

She  lay  for  a  space  with  the  heavy  masses  of  her 
hair  on  the  rough  pillow  framing  the  pale  and  ex- 
quisite oval  of  her  face,  and  her  vivid  eyes  troubled 
with  the  longing  to  be  convinced.  Then  her  lips 
shaped  themselves  in  a  rather  pitiful  smile  that  lifted 
them  only  at  one  corner. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    197 

"Maybe  ye  don't  .  .  .  know  it  Jack,"  she  mur- 
mured, "but  ye're  jest  seekin'  .  .  .  ter  let  me  .  .  . 
die  .  .  .  easy  in  my  mind  .  .  .  and  happy." 

"Before  God  I  am  not,"  he  vehemently  contra- 
dicted her.  "I'm  not  trying  to  give  but  to  take. 
Whether  you  get  well  or  not,  Glory,  I  want  to  fight 
for  your  life  and  your  love.  We've  faced  death,  to- 
gether. We've  seen  things  nakedly — together.  For 
neither  of  us  can  there  ever  be  any  true  life — except 
together." 

His  breath  was  coming  with  the  swift  intensity  that 
was  almost  a  sob  and,  in  the  eyes  that  bent  over  her, 
Glory  read  the  hunger  that  could  not  be  counterfeited. 

"Anyhow,"  she  faltered,  "we've  had — this  min- 
ute." 

Spurrier  rose  at  last  and  called  the  others  back. 
He  himself  did  not  know  when  once  more  he  took  her 
hand  and  the  preacher  stood  over  them,  whether  her 
responses  to  the  services  would  be  affirmative  or  nega- 
tive. 

To  Spurrier  marriage  had  always  seemed  an  oppor- 
tunity. It  was  a  thing  in  which  an  ambitious  man 
could  no  more  afford  yielding  to  uncalculating  im- 
pulses than  in  the  forming  of  a  major  business  connec- 
tion. Marriage  must  carry  a  man  upward  toward  the 
peak  of  his  destiny,  and  his  wife  must  bring  as  her 
dowry,  social  reinforcements  and  distinction. 

Now,  in  the  darkening  room  of  a  log  house,  with 
figures  clad  in  patches  and  hodden-gray,  he  held  the 
hand  that  was  too  weak  to  close  responsively  upon  his 
own,  and  listened  to  the  words  of  a  shaggy-headed 
preacher,  whose  beard  was  a  stubble  and  whose  lips 
moved  over  yellow  and  fanglike  teeth. 


198    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Confusedly  he  heard  the  questions  and  his  own  firm 
responses  to  the  simple  service  of  marriage  as  ren- 
dered by  the  backwoods  preacher,  then  his  heart 
seemed  to  stop  and  stand  as  the  words  were  uttered 
to  which  Glory  must  make  her  answer. 

"Will  you,  Glory,  have  this  man,  John  Spur- 
rier  " 

What  would  her  answer  be — assent  or  negation  ? 

The  pause  seemed  to  last  interminably  as  he  bent 
with  supplication  in  his  glance  over  her,  and  the  breath 
came  from  his  lips  with  an  unconscious  sibilance,  like 
escaping  steam  from  a  strained  boiler,  when  at  last 
the  head  on  the  pillow  gave  the  ghost  of  a  nod. 

Even  at  that  moment  there  lurked  in  the  back  of 
his  mind,  though  not  admitted  as  important,  the  ghost 
of  realization  that  he  was  doing  precisely  the  sort  of 
thing  which,  in  his  own  world,  would  not  only  unclass 
him  but  make  him  appear  ludicrous  as  well. 

As  for  that  world  of  lifted  eye-brows  he  felt  just 
now  only  a  withering  contempt  and  a  scalding  hatred. 

Almost  as  soon  as  the  simple  ceremony  ended, 
Glory  sank  again  into  unconsciousness,  and  the  father 
and  preacher,  sitting  silent  in  the  next  room,  were  un- 
able to  forget  that  though  there  had  been  a  wedding, 
they  were  also  awaiting  the  coming  of  death. 

The  night  fell  with  the  soft  brightness  of  moon  and 
stars,  and  through  the  tangled  woods  the  searchers 
were  following  hard  on  the  flight  of  the  assailants — 
doggedly  and  grimly,  with  the  burning  indignation  of 
men  bent  on  vindicating  the  good  name  of  their  peo- 
ple and  community.  Yet,  so  far,  the  fugitive  squad 
had  succeeded  not  only  in  eluding  capture  or  recogni- 
tion, but  also  in  carrying  with  them  their  wounded. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    199 

From  Lexington,  where  Spurrier  had  formed 
strong  connections,  a  deputy  sheriff  was  riding  in  a 
caboose  behind  a  special  engine  as  fast  as  the  road- 
beds would  permit.  The  smokestack  trailed  a  flat  line 
of  hurrying  smoke  and  the  whistle  screamed  star- 
tlingly  through  the  night.  At  the  officer's  knees,  gaz- 
ing up  at  him  out  of  gentle  eyes  that  belied  their 
profession,  crouched  two  tawny  dogs  with  long  ears 
— the  bloodhounds  that  were  to  start  from  the  cabin 
and  give  voice  in  the  laurel. 

Waiting  for  them  was  a  torn  scrap  of  blue  denim 
such  as  rough  overalls  are  made  of.  It  had  been  found 
in  a  brier  patch  where  some  fleeing  wearer  had  snarled 
himself. 

Yet  two  days  later  the  deputy  returned  from  his 
quest  in  the  timber,  shaking  his  head. 

"I'm  sorry,"  he  reported.  "I've  done  my  best,  but 
it's  not  been  good  enough." 

"What's  the  trouble?"  inquired  Cappeze  shortly, 
and  the  officer  answered  regretfully: 

"This  country  is  zigzagged  and  criss-crossed  with 
watercourses — and  water  throws  the  dogs  off.  The 
fugitives  probably  made  their  way  by  wading  where- 
ever  they  could.  The  longest  run  we  made  was  up 
toward  Wolf  Pen  Branch." 

That  was  the  direction,  Spurrier  silently  reflected, 
of  Sim  Colby's  house,  but  he  made  no  comment. 

Brother  Hawkins,  who  was  leaving  that  afternoon, 
laid  a  kindly  hand  on  Spurrier's  shoulder. 

"Thet's  bad  news,"  he  said.  "But  I  kin  give  ye  bet- 
ter. I  kin  almost  give  ye  my  gorrantee  thet  ther 
gal's  goin'  ter  come  through.  Hit's  wantin'  ter  live 
thet  does  hit." 


200    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Spurrier's  eyes  brightened  out  of  the  misery  that 
had  dulled  them,  and  as  to  the  failure  of  the  chase  he 
reassured  himself  with  the  thought  that  the  dogs  had 
started  toward  Sim  Colby's  house,  and  that  he  him- 
self could  finish  what  they  had  begun. 

Those  tawny  beasts  had  coursed  at  the  behest  of  a 
master  who  was  bound  by  the  limitations  of  the  law, 
but  he,  John  Spurrier,  was  his  own  master  and  could 
deal  less  formally  and  more  condignly  with  an  enemy 
to  whom  suspicion  pointed — and  there  was  time 
enough. 


CHAPTER  XV 

AND  yet  on  that  day  when  the  bobwhites  had 
/-%  sounded  and  the  blow  had  fallen,  Sim  Colby 
was  nowhere  near  the  opportunity  hound's 
house.  He  sat  tippling  in  a  mining  town  two  days' 
journey  away,  and  he  had  no  knowledge  of  what  went 
on  at  home.  His  companion  was  ex-Private  Sever- 
ance— once  his  comrade  in  arms. 

The  town  was  one  of  those  places  which  discredit 
the  march  of  industry  by  the  mongrelized  character 
of  its  outposts.  The  wild  aloofness  of  the  hills  and 
valleys  was  marred  there  by  the  shacks  of  the  camp 
and  its  sky  soiled  by  a  black  reek  of  coke  furnaces. 

Filth  physical  and  moral  brooded  along  the  un- 
kempt streets  where  the  foul  buzz  of  swarming  flies 
sounded  over  refuse  piles,  and  that  spirit  of  degrada- 
tion lay  no  less  upon  the  unclean  tavern,  where  the 
two  men  who  had  once  worn  the  uniform  sat  with  a 
bottle  of  cheap  whisky  between  them. 

Colby,  who  had  need  to  maintain  his  reputation  for 
probity  at  home,  made  an  occasional  pilgrimage  hither 
to  foregather  with  his  former  comrade  and  loosen  the 
galling  rein  of  restraint.  Just  about  the  time  when 
the  attack  on  Spurrier's  house  had  begun,  he  had 
leaned  forward  with  his  elbows  on  the  table,  his  face 
heavy  and  his  eyes  inflamed,  pursuing  some  topic  of 
conversation  which  had  already  gained  headway. 

"These  hyar  fellers  that  seeks  ter  git  rid  of  Spur- 
201 


202    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

rier,"  he  confided,  "kinderly  hinted  'round  thet  they'd 
like  ter  git  me  ter  do  ther  job  for  'em,  but  I  pretended 
like  I  didn't  onderstand  what  they  war  drivin'  at,  no 
fashion  at  all." 

"Why  didn't  ye  hearken  ter  'em  ?"  questioned  Sever- 
ance practically.  "Hit  hain't  every  day  a  man  kin  git 
paid  fer  doin'  what  he  seeks  ter  do  on  his  own  hook." 

But  Colby  grinned  with  a  crafty  gleam  in  his  eye 
and  poured  another  drink. 

"What  fer  would  I  risk  ther  penitenshery  ter  do  a 
killin'  fer  them  fellers  when,  ef  I  jest  sets  still  on  my 
hunkers  they'll  do  mine  fer  me,"  he  countered. 

For  a  time  after  that  whatever  enemies  Spurrier 
had  seemed  to  have  lost  their  spirit  of  eagerness.  One 
might  have  presumed  that  to  the  rule  of  amity  which 
apparently  surrounded  him,  there  was  no  exception — 
and  so  the  mystery  remained  unsolved.  Even  blind 
Joe  Givins  made  a  detour  in  a  journey  to  stop  at  Spur- 
rier's house  and  sing  a  ballad  of  his  own  composition 
anent  the  mysterious  siege  and  to  express  his  indigna- 
tion at  the  "pizen  meanness"  of  men  who  would  father 
and  carry  forward  such  infamies. 

And  Glory,  who  had  penetrated  so  deeply  into  the 
shadow  that  life  had  seemed  ended  for  her,  was  recov- 
ering. Into  her  pale  cheeks  came  a  new  blossom- 
ing and  into  the  smile  of  her  lips  and  eyes  a  new  light 
that  was  serene  and  triumphant.  She  had  been  too 
happy  to  die. 

While  the  summer  waned  and  the  beauties  of  au- 
tumn began  to  kindle,  the  young  wife  grew  strong,  and 
her  husband,  seemingly,  had  nothing  to  do  except  to 
wander  about  the  hills  with  her  and  discover  in  her 
new  charms.  Neighborly  saws  and  hammers  were 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    203 

ringing  now  as  his  place  was  transformed  from  its 
simple  condition  to  the  "hugest  log  house  on  seven 
creeks." 

In  some  respects  he  wished  that  his  factitious  indo- 
lence were  real,  for  he  felt  no  pride  in  the  occult  fash- 
ion in  which  he  was  directing  the  activities  of  his 
henchmen.  And  yet  a  few  months  ago  this  progress 
would  have  been  food  for  satisfaction — almost 
triumph. 

His  plans,  as  outlined  to  Martin  Harrison  were  by 
no  means  at  a  standstill.  They  were  going  forward 
with  an  adroit  drawing  in  and  knitting  together  of 
scattered  strands,  and  the  warp  and  woof  of  this 
weaving  were  coming  into  definite  order  and  pattern. 

The  dual  necessity  was :  first  to  slip  through  a  legisla- 
ture which  was  supposedly  under  the  domination  of 
American  Oil  and  Gas,  a  charter  which  should  wrest 
from  that  concern  the  sweet  fruits  of  monopoly,  and 
secondly,  to  secure  at  paltry  prices  the  land  options 
that  would  give  the  prospective  pipe  line  its  right  of 
way. 

As  this  campaign  had  been  originally  mapped  and 
devised  it  had  not  been  simple,  but  now  it  was  com- 
plicated by  a  new  and  difficult  element.  In  those  first 
dreams  of  conquest  the  native  had  been  no  more  con- 
sidered than  the  red  Indian  was  considered  in  the 
minds  of  the  new  world  settlers.  Spurrier  himself 
had  brushed  lightly  aside  this  aspect  of  the  affair. 
Every  game  has  and  must  have  its  "suckers."  And 
their  sorry  destiny  it  is  to  be  despoiled.  Now  the  very 
term  that  he  had  used  in  his  thoughts,  brought  with 
it  an  amendment.  It  is  not  every  game  that  must  have 
its  suckers  but  every  bunco  game. 


204  ,  THE  LAW  OF^HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Martin  Harrison  did  not  know  it,  but  his  lieuten- 
ant had  redrawn  his  plans,  and  redrawn  them  in  a 
fashion  which  the  chief  would  have  regarded  as  in- 
subordinate, impractical  and  sentimental. 

Spurrier  intended  that  when  the  smoke  cleared 
from  the  field  upon  which  the  forces  of  Harrison  and 
those  of  Trabue  had  been  embattled,  the  Harrison 
banners  should  be  victoriously  afloat  and  the  Trabue 
standards  dust  trailed.  But  also  he  intended  that  the 
native  land-holders,  upon  whom  both  combatants  had 
looked  as  mere  unfortunate  onlookers  raked  by  the 
cross  fire  of  opposing  artillery,  should  emerge  as  real 
and  substantial  gainers. 

Of  late  the  man  had  not  escaped  the  penalty  of  one 
who  faces  responsibility  and  wields  power.  He  had 
abandoned  as  puerile  his  first  impulse,  after  his  mar- 
riage, to  throw  up  his  whole  stewardship  to  the  Wall 
Street  masters.  That  would  have  amounted  only  to 
an  ostentation  of  virtue  which  would  have  surren- 
dered the  situation  into  the  merciless  hands  of  A.  O. 
and  G.,  and  would  have  left  the  mountain  folk  unpro- 
tected. 

Yet  he  could  not  escape  the  realization  that  he 
would  stand  with  all  the  seeming  of  a  traitor  and  a 
plunderer  to  any  of  his  simple  friends  who  learned 
of  his  activities — for  as  yet  he  could  confide  to  no  one 
the  plans  he  was  maturing. 

It  was  when  the  refurnished  and  enlarged  place  had 
been  completed  that  the  neighbors  came  from  valley, 
slope,  and  cove  to  give  their  blessing  at  the  house- 
warming  which  was  also,  belatedly,  the  "infaring." 

That  homely,  pioneer  observance  with  which  the 
groom  brings  home  his  bride,  had  not  been  possible 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    205 

after  the  wedding,  but  now  Aunt  Erie  Toppitt  had 
come  over  and  prepared  entertainment  on  a  lavish  if 
homely  scale  since  Glory  was  not  yet  well. 

To  the  husband  as  he  stood  greeting  the  guests  who 
arrived  in  jeans  and  hodden-gray,  in  bright  shawls  and 
calicoes,  came  the  feeling  of  contrast  and  unreality, 
as  though  this  were  all  part  of  some  play  quaintly  and 
exaggeratedly  staged  to  reflect  a  medieval  period.  In 
the  drawing  rooms  of  Martin  Harrison  and  his  con- 
freres he  had  moved  through  a  social  atmosphere, 
quiet,  contained,  and  reflecting  such  a  life  as  the 
dramatist  uses  for  background  in  a  comedy  of  man- 
ners. Closing  his  eyes  now  he  could  see  himself  as 
he  had  been  when,  starting  out  for  such  an  entertain- 
ment, he  had  paused  before  the  cheval  glass  in  his 
club  bedroom,  adding  a  straightening  touch  to  his 
white  tie,  adjusting  the  set  of  his  waistcoat  and  cast- 
ing a  critical  eye  over  the  impeccable  black  and  white 
of  his  evening  dress.  Here,  flannel  shirted  and  booted, 
corduroy  breeched  and  tanned  brown,  he  stood  by  the 
door  watching  the  arrival  of  guests  who  seemed  to 
have  stepped  out  of  pioneer  America  or  Elizabethan 
England.  There  were  women  riding  mules  or  tramp- 
ing long  roads  on  foot  and  trailing  processions  of 
children  who  could  not  be  left  at  home;  men  feeling 
overdressed  and  uncomfortable  because  they  had 
donned  coats  and  brushed  their  hats;  even  wagons 
plodding  slowly  behind  yokes  of  oxen  and  one  man 
riding  a  steer  in  lieu  of  a  horse! 

So  they  came  to  give  Godspeed  to  his  marriage — 
and  they  were  the  only  people  on  God's  green  earth 
who  thought  of  him  in  any  terms  of  regard  save  that 


206    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

regard  which  sprung  from  self-interest  in  his  ability 
to  serve  beyond  others! 

Men  who  were  blood  enemies  met  here  as  friends, 
because  his  roof  covered  a  zone  of  common  friend- 
ship and  under  its  protection  their  hatreds  could  no 
more  intrude  on  such  a  day  than  could  pursuit  in  the 
Middle  Ages  follow  beyond  the  sanctuary  gates  of  a 
cathedral.  Inside  sounded  the  minors  of  the  native 
fiddlers  and  the  scrape  of  feet  "running  the  sets"  of 
quaint  square  dances. 

The  labors  of  preparation  had  been  onerous.  Aunt 
Erie  stood  at  the  open  door  constituting,  with  Spur- 
rier and  his  wife,  a  "receiving  line"  of  three,  and  her 
wrinkled  old  face  bore  an  affectation  of  morose  ex- 
haustion as  to  each  guest  she  made  the  same  declara- 
tion: 

"I  hopes  an'  prays  ye  all  enjoys  this  hyar  party — 
Gawd  knows  my  back's  broke." 

But  Spurrier  had  not  in  his  letters  to  Harrison  men- 
tioned his  marriage,  and  to  Vivien  he  had  not  written 
at  all.  He  thought  they  would  hardly  understand, 
and  he  preferred  to  make  his  announcement  when  he 
stood  face  to  face  with  them,  relying  on  the  force 
of  his  own  personality  to  challenge  any  criticism  and 
proclaim  his  own  independence  of  action.  Just  now 
there  was  no  virtue  in  needlessly  antagonizing  his 
chief. 

Among  the  guests  who  came  to  that  housewarming 
was  one  chance  visitor  who  was  not  expected.  He 
came  because  the  people  under  whose  roof  he  was 
being  sheltered,  had  "fetched  him  along,"  and  he  was 
Wharton,  the  man  whose  purpose  hereabouts  had  set 
gossip  winging  aforetime. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    207 

It  seemed  to  some  of  the  local  visitors  that  despite 
his  entire  courtesy,  Spurrier  did  not  evince  any  pro- 
found liking  for  this  other  "furriner,"  and  since  they 
had  come  to  accept  their  host  as  a  trustworthy  oracle, 
they  took  the  tip  and  were  prepared  to  dislike  Whar- 
ton,  too. 

That  evening,  while  blind  Joe  Givins  fiddled,  and 
dancers  "ran  their  sets"  on  the  smooth,  new  floor,  a 
group  of  men  gathered  on  the  porch  outside  and 
smoked.  Among  them  for  a  time  were  both  Spurrier 
and  Wharton. 

The  latter  raised  something  of  a  laugh  when  he 
confidently  predicted  that  the  oil  prosperity,  for  all 
its  former  collapse  and  present  paralysis,  was  not 
permanently  dead. 

"The  world  needs  oil  and  there's  oil  here,"  he  de- 
clared with  unctuous  conviction.  "Men  who  are  will- 
ing to  gamble  on  that  proposition  will  win  out  in  the 
end." 

"Stranger,"  responded  Uncle  Jimmy  Litchfield,  tak- 
ing his  pipestem  from  between  his  teeth  and  spitting 
contemptuously  at  the  earth,  "ye  sees,  settin'  right 
hyar  before  ye  a  man  that  'lowed  he  was  a  millionaire 
one  time,  'count  of  this  hyar  same  oil  ye're  discoursin' 
so  hopeful  about.  Thet  man's  me.  I'd  been  dirt-pore 
all  my  days,  oftentimes  hurtin'  fer  ther  plum'  need- 
cessities  of  life.  I'm  mighty  nigh  thet  pore  still." 

"Did  you  strike  oil  in  the  boom  days?"  demanded 
Wharton  as  he  bent  eagerly  forward. 

"I  owned  me  a  farm,  them  days,  on  t'other  side  ther 
mounting,"  went  on  the  narrator,  "an'  them  oil  men 
came  along  an'  wanted  ter  buy  ther  rights  offen  me." 

"Did  you  sell?" 


208    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Uncle  Billy  chuckled.  "They  up  an'  offered  me  a 
royalty  of  one-eighth  of  ther  whole  production.  They 
proved  hit  up  ter  me  by  'rithmetic  an'  algebry  how  hit 
would  make  me  rich  over  an'  above  all  avarice — but 
I  said  no,  I  wouldn't  take  no  eighth.  I  stud  out  fer  a 
sixteenth  by  crickety!" 

Both  Spurrier  and  Wharton  smothered  their  laugh- 
ter as  the  latter  inquired  gravely: 
of  them  royalty  games." 

"They  done  better'n  thet.  They  said,  'We'll  give  ye 
two  sixteenths,'  an'  thet's  when  I  'lowed  I  was  es  good 
es  a  Pierpont  Morgan.  I  wouldn't  nuver  hurt  fer  no 
needcessity  no  more." 

"And  what  was  the  outcome  of  it  all  ?"  asked  Whar- 
ton. 

Uncle  Jimmy's  face  darkened.  "The  come-uppance 
of  ther  whole  blame  business  war  thet  a  lot  of  pore 
devils  what  hed  done  been  content  with  poverty  found 
hit  twice  as  hard  ter  go  on  bein'  pore  because  they'd 
got  to  entertainin'  crazy  dreams  ther  same  as  me. 
Any  man  thet  talks  oil  ter  me  now's  got  ter  buy  out- 
right an'  pay  me  spot  cash.  I  ain't  playin'  no  more 
of  them  royalty  games.' 

"That's  fair  enough,"  said  Wharton.  "But  it  seems 
to  me  that  you  people  are  taking  the  wrong  tack.  Be- 
cause the  boom  collapsed  once,  you  are  shutting  the 
door  against  the  possibility  of  its  coming  again — and 
it's  going  to  come  again." 

"A  man  kin  git  stung  once,"  volunteered  another 
native,  "an'  hit's  jest  tough  luck  or  bewitchment.  Ef 
he  gits  stung  twicet  on  ther  same  trumpery,  he  ain't 
no  more  then  a  plum',  daft  fool." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    209 

Wharton  lighted  a  fresh  cigar  and  turned  toward 
Spurrier. 

"Mr.  Spurrier  here,  is  a  man  you  all  know  and 

trust "  he  hazarded.  "I  understand  that  he's  seen 

oil  fields  in  the  West  and  Mexico.  I  wonder  what  he 
thinks  about  it  all." 

On  the  dark  porch  Spurrier  looked  at  his  visitor  for 
a  few  minutes  in  silence  and  his  first  reply  was  a  quiet 
question. 

"Did  I  tell  you  I'd  seen  oil  fields  in  operation?"  he 
inquired,  and  Wharton  stammered  a  little. 

"I  was  under  that  impression,"  he  said.  "Possibly 
I  am  wrong." 

"No — you  are  right  enough,"  answered  the  other 
evenly.  "I  just  didn't  remember  mentioning  it.  What 
is  your  question  exactly?" 

"If  I  have  a  hunch  that  oil  holds  a  future  here  and 
am  willing  to  back  that  hunch,  don't  you  think  I  am 
acting  wisely  to  do  it?" 

The  host  sat  silent  while  he  seemed  to  weigh  the 
question  with  judicial  deliberation,  and  during  the 
pause  he  realized  that  the  little  group  of  men  were 
waiting  intently  for  his  utterance  as  for  the  voice  of 
the  Delphic  oracle. 

"I  have  seen  oil  operation  and  oil  development,"  he 
said  at  last.  "I  have  lived  here  for  some  time  and 
know  the  history  of  the  former  boom,  but  I  have  not 
bought  a  foot  of  ground.  That  ought  to  make  my 
opinion  clear." 

"Then  you  don't  believe  in  the  future  ?" 

"Don't  you  think,  Mr.  Wharton,"  inquired  Spurrier 
coolly  and,  his  listeners  thought,  with  a  shaded  note 


210    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

of  contempt,  "that  what  I've  already  said,  answers 
your  question?  If  I  did  believe  in  it,  wouldn't  I  be 
likely  to  seek  investment  at  the  present  stage  of  land 
prices?" 

John  Spurrier  was  glad  that  it  was  dark  out  there. 
He  knew  that  the  mountain  men  awaited  his  judgment 
as  something  carrying  the  sanction  of  finality  and  he 
felt  like  a  Judas.  He  himself  knew  that  back  of  his 
seeming  betrayal  was  a  determination  to  safeguard 
their  rights,  but  the  whole  game  of  maneuvering  and 
dissembling  was  as  impossible  to  play  proudly  as  it 
would  have  been  to  undertake  the  duties  of  a  spy. 

"I'll  admit,"  observed  Wharton  modestly,  "that  if  I 
lost  some  money,  it  wouldn't  break  me — and  I'm  a 
stubborn  man  when  I  get  a  hunch.  Well,  I'm  going 
in  to  watch  them  dance." 

He  rose  and  went  indoors  and  Uncle  Jimmy,  when 
he  put  a  question  acted,  in  effect,  as  spokesman  for 
them  all. 

"What  does  ye  think  of  thet  feller,  Mr.  Spurrier?" 

"I  think,"  said  the  opportunity  hound  crisply,  "that 
he's  a  fool,  and  Scripture  says,  'a  fool  and  his  money 
are  soon  parted.' ' 

"An'  ef  he  seeks  ter  buy?" 

"Sell — by  all  means — if  the  price  is  right!" 

The  next  day  when  they  were  alone  Glory  said: 

"I  don't  like  that  man  Wharton.  He's  got  sneaky 
eyes." 

Her  husband  laughed.  "I  can't  say  that  he  struck 
me  pleasantly,"  he  admitted.  "We  talked  oil  out  on 
the  porch.  He  was  the  optimist  and  I  the  pessimist.'' 

And  it  was  to  happen  that  the  first  rift  in  Glory's 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

lute  of  happiness  was  to  come  out  of  Wharton's 
agency,  though  she  did  not  recognize  it  as  his. 

For  in  these  times,  despite  a  happiness  that  made 
her  sing  through  the  days,  something  like  the  panic 
of  stage  fright  was  settling  over  her:  a  thing  yet  of 
the  future,  but  some  day  to  be  faced. 

So  long  as  life  ran  quietly,  like  the  shaded  streams 
that  went  down  until  they  made  the  rivers  of  the 
greater  and  outer  world,  she  was  confident  mistress  of 
her  life  and  had  no  forebodings.  Spurrier  loved  her 
and  she  worshiped  him — but  out  there  beyond  the 
ridges,  the  activities  of  his  larger  life  were  calling — 
or  would  call.  Then  they  must  leave  here  and  she 
began  to  dread  the  thousand  little  mistakes  and  the 
humiliations  that  might  come  to  him  because  of  her 
unfamiliarity  with  that  life.  Since  the  bearings  of 
achievement  are  delicate,  she  even  feared  that  she 
might  throw  out  of  gear  and  poise  the  whole  machin- 
ery of  his  success,  and  in  secret  Glory  was  poring  over 
absurd  books  on  etiquette  and  deportment.  That  these 
stereotyped  instructions  would  only  hamper  her  own 
naturally  plastic  spirit,  she  did  not  know  when  she 
read  and  reread  chapters  headed,  "How  to  Enter  a 
Drawingroom"  and  "Hints  upon  Refined  Conversa- 
tion." 

That  Spurrier  would  suggest  going  without  her  to 
any  field  into  which  his  work  called  him,  she  did  not 
dream.  That  he  would  leave  her  to  wait  for  him 
here,  as  the  companion  only  of  his  backwoods  hours, 
her  pride  never  contemplated. 

Yet  in  the  fall  Spurrier  did  just  that  thing,  and  to 


212    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

the  letter  which  induced  its  doing  was  signed  the  name 
of  George  Wharton.     The  latter  wrote: 

"We  must  begin  to  lay  out  lines  for  work  with  the  next 
legislature.  There  are  people  in  Louisville  and  Lexington 
whom  you  should  meet  and  talk  with.  I  think  you  had 
better  make  your  headquarters  at  one  of  the  Louisville  clubs, 
and  when  you  get  here  I  will  put  you  in  touch  with  the 
proper  bearings." 

That  much  might  have  puzzled. any  of  the  moun- 
taineers who  had  taken  their  own  cues  from  Spur- 
rier's thinly  concealed  manner  of  hostility  to  Wharton, 
but  the  last  part  of  the  letter  would  have  explained 
that,  too: 

"The  little  game  down  at  your  house  was  nothing  short 
of  masterly.  Your  acting  was  superb,  and  though  you  were 
the  star,  I  think  I  may  claim  to  have  played  up  to  you  well. 
The  device  of  gaining  their  confidence  so  that,  of  their  own 
accord,  they  turned  to  you  for  counsel — and  then  seeming 
to  gloom  on  me  when  I  talked  oil,  was  pretty  subtle.  I 
could  openly  preach  buying  and  instead  of  turning  away 
from  me  in  suspicion,  they  fell  on  me  for  a  sucker.  I — and 
others  acting  for  me — have,  as  the  result,  secured  a  good 
part  of  the  options  we  need — and  you  appear  to  be  of  all 
men,  the  least  interested." 

• 

Spurrier  read  the  thing  twice,  then  crushed  it  sav- 
agely in  his  clenched  hand  and  cursed  under  his 
breath.  "The  damned  jackals,"  he  muttered.  "That's 
the  pack  I'm  running  with — or  rather  I'm  running 
with  them  and  against  them  at  once." 

But  when  Spurrier  had  kissed  Glory  good-by  and 
she  had  waved  a  smiling  farewell,  she  turned  back 
into  her  house  and  covered  her  face  with  her  hands. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    213 

"I  don't  want  to  believe  it,"  she  declared.  "I  won't 
believe  it — but  it  looks  like  he's  ashamed  to  take  me 
with  him.  Not  that  I  blame  him — only — only  I've 
got  to  make  myself  over.  He's  got  to  be  proud  of 
me!" 


CHAPTER  XVI 

WHEN  he  came  back  for  a  short  stay  in  the 
hills  between  periods  of  quiet  but  strenuous 
affairs  in  Louisville,  he  brought  gifts  that  de- 
lighted Glory  and  a  devotion  that  made  her  forget  her 
misgivings.  She  had  him  back,  and  he  found  the 
house  expressing  in  many  small  ways  a  taste  and  dis- 
crimination which  brought  to  him  a  flush  of  pleasur- 
able surprise.  Glory  knew  the  menace  that  hung  over 
Spurrier.  She  knew  of  the  malevolent  and  elusive 
enmities  to  which  her  own  life  had  so  nearly  become 
forfeit,  and  the  old  terror  of  the  mountain  woman  for 
her  man  became  the  cross  that  she  must  carry  with 
her.  Because  of  her  militant  father's  antagonisms 
she  had  been  inured  from  childhood  to  the  taut  mo- 
ment of  suspense  that  came  with  every  voice  raised  at 
the  gate  and  every  knock  sounding  on  the  door. 

There  was  an  element  of  possible  threat  in  each 
arrival.  She  had  become,  as  one  has  need  to  be,  under 
such  circumstances,  somewhat  fatalistic  as  to  the  old 
dangers.  Now  that  the  fear  embraced  her  husband  as 
well  as  her  father,  the  philosophy  which  she  had  cul- 
tivated failed  her.  Yet  their  happiness  was  so  strong 
that  it  threw  off  these  things  and  drew  upon  the 
treasury  of  the  present. 

Spurrier,  who  talked  little  of  his  own  dangers,  was 
far  from  forgetting.  His  suspicion  of  Colby  strength- 
ened, and  he  looked  forward  to  the  day  as  inevitable 

214 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    215 

when  there  must  be  a  reckoning  between  them,  which 
would  not  be  a  final  reckoning  unless  one  of  them 
died,  and  for  that  encounter  he  went  grimly  prepared. 

One  thing  puzzled  him.  Of  Sim  Colby  he  had 
thought  as  a  somewhat  solitary  character,  whose  re- 
lations with  his  neighbors,  though  amicable,  were  yet 
rather  detached.  He  had  seemed  to  have  few  inti- 
mates, yet  if  he  had  led  this  attack,  he  was  palpably 
able  to  muster  at  his  back  a  considerable  force  of 
men  for  a  desperate  project.  That  meant  that  the  in- 
fection of  hatred  against  himself  had  spread  from  a 
single  enmity  to  the  number,  at  least,  of  the  men  who 
had  joined  in  the  battle,  and  it  had  been  a  battle  in 
which  more  than  one  had  fallen.  Before,  he  had 
recognized  a  single  enemy.  Henceforth  he  must  ac- 
knowledge plural  enmities. 

And  along  that  line  of  reasoning  the  next  step  fol- 
lowed logically. 

Who  would  suggest  himself  as  so  natural  a  leader 
for  a  murder  enterprise  as  Sam  Mosebury,  whose 
record  was  established  in  such  matters?  Certainly  if 
this  suspicion  were  well-founded  it  would  be  safest  to 
know. 

Spurrier,  despite  all  he  had  heard  of  Sam  Mose- 
bury, was  reluctant  to  entertain  the  thought.  The 
man  might  be,  as  Cappeze  painted  him,  the  head  and 
front  of  an  infamously  vicious  system,  yet  there  was 
something  engaging  and  likable  about  him,  which 
made  it  hard  to  believe  that  for  hire  or  any  motive 
not  nearly  personal  he  would  have  conspired  to  do 
murder. 

So  among  the  many  claims  upon  Spurrier's  atten- 
tion was  the  effort  to  find  out  where  Sam  Mosebury 


216    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

stood,  and  it  was  while  he  was  thinking  of  that  prob- 
lem that  he  encountered  the  object  of  his  thoughts  in 
person.  The  spot  was  one  distant  from  his  own  house. 
Indeed  it  was  near  Colby's  cabin — still  apparently 
empty — that  the  meeting  took  place. 

The  opportunity  hound  had  made  several  trips  over 
there  of  late,  because  he  required  to  know  something 
of  Colby's  activities,  and,  of  course,  when  he  came 
he  observed  a  surreptitious  caution  which  sought  to 
guard  against  any  hint  leaking  through  to  Colby  of  his 
own  surveillance.  He  firmly  believed  that  Sim  was 
"hiding  out,"  and  that  despite  the  seeming  emptiness 
of  his  habitation  he  was  not  far  away. 

So  it  was  Spurrier,  the  law-abiding  man,  who  was 
skulking  in  the  laurel  while  the  notorious  Mosebury 
walked  the  highway  "upstanding"  and  openly — and 
the  man  in  the  thicket  stooped  low  to  escape  discov- 
ery. But  his  foot  slipped  in  the  tangle  and  a  rotting 
branch  cracked  under  it,  giving  out  a  sound  which 
brought  Mosebury  to  an  abrupt  halt  with  his  head 
warily  raised  and  his  rifle  poised.  He,  too,  had  ene- 
mies and  must  walk  in  caution. 

There  had  been  times  when  Sam's  life  had  hinged 
on  just  such  trivial  things  as  the  snapping  of  a  twig, 
and  now,  peering  through  the  thickets  Spurrier  saw 
a  flinty  hardness  come  into  his  eyes. 

Sam  stepped  quietly  but  swiftly  to  the  roadside  and 
sheltered  himself  behind  a  rock.  He  said  no  word, 
but  he  waited,  and  Spurrier  could  feel  that  his  eyes 
were  boring  into  his  own  place  of  concealment  with  a 
scrutiny  that  went  over  it  studiously  and  keenly,  foot 
by  foot. 

He  hurriedly  considered  what  plan  to  pursue.     If 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    217 

Mosebury  was  in  league  with  Colby,  to  show  himself 
would  be  almost  as  undesirable  a  thing  as  to  show 
himself  to  Colby  direct.  Yet  if  he  stayed  there  with 
the  guilty  seeming  of  one  in  hiding,  Mosebury  would 
end  by  locating  him — and  might  assume  that  the  hid- 
ing was  itself  a  proof  of  enmity.  He  decided  to  de- 
clare himself  so  he  shouted  boldly:  "It's  John  Spur- 
rier," and  rose  a  moment  later  into  view. 

Then  he  came  forward,  thinking  fast,  and  when  the 
two  met  in  the  road,  mendaciously  said: 

"I  guess  it  looks  queer  for  a  man  with  a  clear  con- 
science to  take  to  the  timber  that  way,  Mr.  Mosebury 
— but  you  may  remember  that  I  was  recently  attacked, 
and  I  don't  know  who  did  it." 

Mosebury  nodded.  "I'd  be  ther  last  man  ter  fault 
ye  fer  thet,"  he  concurred.  "I  was  doin'  nigh  erbout 
ther  same  thing  myself,  but  I  didn't  know  ye  often 
fared  over  this  way,  Mr.  Spurrier." 

"No,  it's  off  my  beat."  Spurrier  was  now  lying 
fluently  in  what  he  fancied  was  to  be  a  game  of  wits 
with  a  man  who  might  have  led  the  siege  upon  his 
house.  "I  was  just  going  over  to  Stamp  Carter's 
place.  He  wanted  me  to  advise  him  about  a  property 
deal." 

For  a  space  Sam  stood  gravely  thoughtful,  and 
when  he  spoke  his  words  astonished  the  other. 

"Seein'  we  hev  met  up,  accidental-like,  I've  got  hit 
in  head  ter  tell  ye  somethin'  deespite  hit  ain't  rightly 
none  of  my  business."  Again  he  paused,  and  it  was 
plain  that  he  was  laboring  under  embarrassment,  so 
Spurrier  inquired: 

"What  is  it?" 

"Of  course,  I've  done  heered  ther  talk  erbout  yore 


218    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

bein'  attacked.  Don't  ye  really  suspicion  no  special 
man?" 

"Suspicion  is  one  thing,  Mr.  Mosebury,  and  knowl- 
edge is  another." 

"Yes,  thet's  Bible  truth,  an'  yit  I  wouldn't  marvel 
none  yore  suspicions  went  over  thet-away — an'  came 
up  not  fur  off  from  hyar."  He  nodded  his  head  to- 
ward Sim  Colby's  house,  and  Spurrier,  who  was 
steeled  to  fence,  gave  no  indication  of  astonishment. 
He  only  inquired: 

"Why  should  Mr.  Colby  hold  a  grudge  against 
me?" 

"I  ain't  got  no  power  of  knowin'  thet."  Mosebury 
spoke  dryly.  "An'  es  I  said  afore,  hit  ain't  none  of 
my  business  nohow — still  I  does  know  thet  ye've  been 
over  hyar  some  sev'ral  times,  an'  every  time  ye  came, 
ye  came  quietlike  es  ef  ye  sought  ter  see  Sim  afore 
Sim  seed  you." 

"You  think  I've  been  here  before?" 

"No,  sir,  I  don't  think  hit.  I  knows  hit.  I  seed 
ye." 

"Saw  me!" 

"Yes,  sir,  seed  ye.  Hit's  my  business  to  keep  a 
peeled  eye  in  my  face." 

So  Spurrier's  careful  secrecy  had  been  transparent 
after  all,  and  if  this  man  was  an  ally  of  Colby's,  Colby 
already  shared  his  knowledge.  More  than  ever  Spur- 
rier felt  sure  that  his  suspicions  of  the  man  whose  eyes 
had  changed  color,  were  grounded  in  truth. 

"Howsomever,"  went  on  Mosebury  quietly,  "I  ain't 
nuver  drapped  no  hint  ter  Sim  erbout  hit.  I  ain't, 
gin'rally  speakin',  no  meddler,  but  ef  so  be  I  kin  fore- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    219 

warn  ye  ergainst  harm,  hit  would  pleasure  me  ter  do 
hit."  ' 

There  was  a  cordial  ring  of  sincerity  in  the  manner 
and  voice,  which  it  was  hard  to  doubt,  so  the  other 
said  gravely: 

"Thank  you.  I  did  suspect  Colby,  but  I  have  no 
proof." 

"I  don't  know  whether  Sim  grudges  ye  or  not,"  con- 
tinued Mosebury.  "He  ain't  nuver  named  ther  matter 
ter  me  nowise,  guise,  ner  fashion — but  Sim  wasn't 
with  ther  crowd  thet  went  after  ye.  He  didn't  even 
know  nothin'  erbout  hit.  Sometimes  a  man  comes  to 
grief  by  barkin'  up  ther  wrong  tree." 

Again  suspicion  came  to  the  front.  This  savored 
strongly  of  an  attempt  to  alibi  a  confederate,  and 
Spurrier  inquired  bluntly: 

"Since  you  broached  this  subject,  I  think  it's  fair  to 
ask  you  another  question.  You  tell  me  who  didn't 
come.  Do  you  know  who  did?" 

For  a  moment  Mosebury's  face  remained  blank, 
then  he  spoke  stiffly. 

"I  said  I'd  be  glad  ter  warn  ye — but  I  didn't  say 
I  war  willin'  ter  name  no  names.  Thet  would  be 
mighty  nigh  ther  same  thing  es  takin'  yore  quarrel 
onto  myself." 

"Then  that's  all  you  can  tell  me — that  it  wasn't 
Colby?" 

"Mr.  Spurrier,"  rejoined  the  mountaineer  seriously, 
"ye  knows  jedgmatically  an'  p'intedly  thet  ye've 
got  enemies  that  means  business.  I  ain't  nuver 
seed  a  man  yet  in  these  hills  what  belittled  a  peril  sich 
as  yourn  thet  didn't  pay  fer  hit — with  his  life." 

"I  don't  belittle  it,  but  what  can  I  do?" 


220    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN     • 

Sam  Mosebury  stood  with  a  gaze  that  wandered  off 
over  the  broken  sky  line.  So  grave  was  his  demeanor 
that  when  his  words  came  they  carried  the  shock  of  in- 
consistent absurdity. 

"Thar's  a  witch  woman,  thet  dwells  nigh  hyar.  Ef 
I  war  in  youre  stid,  I'd  git  her  ter  read  ther  signs  fer 
me  an'  tell  me  what  I  had  need  guard  ergainst  most." 

"I'm  afraid,"  answered  Spurrier,  repressing  his  con- 
tempt with  difficulty,  "I'm  too  skeptical  to  pin  my 
faith  to  signs  and  omens." 

Again  the  mountain  man  was  looking  gravely  across 
the  hills,  but  for  a  moment  the  eyes  had  flashed 
humorously. 

"I  reckon  we  don't  need  ter  cavil  over  thet,  Mr. 
Spurrier.  I  don't  sot  no  master  store  by  witchcraft 
foolery  my  ownself.  Mebby  ye  recalls  thet  oncet  1 
told  ye  a  leetle  story  erbout  my  cat  an'  my  mockin' 
bird." 

"Yes,"  Spurrier  began  to  understand  now.  "You 
sometimes  speak  in  allegory.  But  this  time  I  don't  get 
the  meaning." 

"Waal,  hit's  this  fashion.  I  don't  know  who  ther 
men  war  thet  tried  ter  kill  ye.  Thet's  God's  truth, 
but  I've  got  my  own  notions  an'  mebby  they  ain't  fur 
wrong.  I  ain't  goin'  ter  name  no  names — but  ef  so 
be  ye  wants  ter  talk  ter  ther  witch  woman,  /'//  hev 
speech  with  her  fust.  What  comes  outen  magic 
kain't  hardly  make  me  no  enemies — but  mebby  hit 
mout  enable  ye  ter  discern  somethin'  thet  would  profit 
ye  to  a  master  degree." 

Spurrier  stood  looking  into  the  face  of  the  other 
and  then  impulsively  he  thrust  out  his  hand. 

"Mr.  Mosebury,"  he  said,  "I'll  be  honest  with  you. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    221 

I  half  suspected  you — because  I'd  met  you  at  Colby's 
and  I  knew  you  hated  Cappeze.  I  owe  you  an  apol- 
ogy, and  I'm  glad  to  know  I  was  wrong." 

"Mr.  Spurrier,"  replied  the  other,  "ef  I  hed  at- 
tempted yore  life  I  wouldn't  hev  failed,  an',  more- 
over, I  don't  hate  old  Cappeze.  Ther  man  thet  wins 
out  don't  hev  no  need  ter  harbor  hatreds.  He  hates 
me  because  he  sought  ter  penitentiary  me — an' 
failed." 

"When  shall  we  go  to  consult  the  oracle?"  asked 
Spurrier,  and  Mosebury  shook  his  head. 

"I  reckon  mebby  I  mout  seem  over  cautious — even 
timorouslike  ter  ye,  in  bein'  so  heedful  erbout  keepin' 
outen  sight  in  this  matter,"  he  said.  "But  them  thet 
knows  my  record,  knows  I  ain't,  jest  ter  say  easy 
skeered.  You  go  home  an'  wait  an'  afore  long  I'll 
write  ye  a  letter,  tellin'  ye  when  ter  go  an'  how  ter  go. 
Then  ye  kin  make  ther  journey  by  yoreself." 

"That  looks  like  common  sense  to  me,"  declared  the 
other,  and  he  went  home,  forgetting  the  witch  woman 
on  the  way,  because  of  the  other  and  lovelier  witch- 
craft that  he  knew  awaited  him  in  his  own  house. 

Spurrier,  despite  his  dangers,  responsibilities,  and 
conflict  of  purposes,  was  happy.  He  was  happy  in  a 
simpler  and  less  complicated  way  than  he  had  ever 
been  before,  because  his  heart  was  in  the  ascendancy, 
and  Glory,  he  thought,  was  "livin'  up  to  her  name." 

If  he  could  have  thrust  some  other  things  into  the 
same  dark  cupboard  of  half -contemptuous  philosophy 
to  which  he  relegated  his  own  dangers,  he  might  have 
been  even  happier.  But  a  mentor  who  had  rarely 
troubled  him  in  past  years  became  insistent  and  audible 


222    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

through  the  silences — speaking  with  the  voice  of  con- 
science. 

He  remembered  telling  Vivian  Harrison,  over  the 
consomme,  that  pearls  did  not  make  oysters  happy 
and  that  these  illiterates  of  the  hills  might  have  hid- 
den wealth  in  the  shells  of  their  isolation  and  gain 
nothing  more  than  the  oyster.  Indeed,  he  had  thought 
of  them  no  more  than  the  pearl  fisherman  thinks  of  the 
low  form  of  life  whose  diseased  state  gives  birth  to 
treasure.  They  inhabited  a  terrain  over  which  he  and 
the  forces  of  American  Oil  and  Gas  were  to  do  battle, 
and  like  birds  nesting  on  a  battlefield,  they  must  take 
their  chances. 

It  was  no  longer  possible  to  maintain  that  callous 
indifference.  These  men,  to  whom  he  could  not,  with- 
out disclosing  his  strategy  and  defeating  his  purpose, 
tell  the  truth,  had  befriended  him. 

They  were  human  and  in  many  ways  lovable.  If  he 
succeeded,  they  would,  upon  his  own  advice,  have  sold 
their  birthrights. 

However,  he  gave  an  anodyne  to  his  conscience  with 
the  thought  that  if  victory  came  to  him  there  would 
be  wealth  enough  for  all  to  share.  Having  won  his 
conquest,  he  could  be  generous,  rendering  back  as  a 
gift  a  part  of  what  should  have  been  theirs  by  right. 
The  means  of  doing  this  he  had  worked  out  but  he 
could  confide  to  no  one.  He  had  embarked  as  cold 
bloodedly  as  Martin  Harrison  had  ever  started  on  any 
of  the  enterprises  that  had  made  him  a  money  baron. 
Indeed  it  had  been  Spurrier  who  had  fired  the  chief 
with  interest  in  the  scheme,  and  if  the  thing  were 
culpable  the  culpability  had  been  his  own.  Then  he 
had  come  to  realize  that  in  the  human  equation  was  a 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    223 

factor  that  he  had  ignored:  the  rights  of  the  ignorant 
native.  He  had  fought  down  that  recognition  as  the 
voice  of  sentimentality  until  at  last  he  had  no  longer 
been  able  to  fight  it  down.  Between  those  two  states 
of  mind  had  been  a  war  of  mental  agony  and  con- 
flict, of  doubt,  of  vacillation.  The  conclusion  had  not 
been  easily  reached.  Now  he  meant  to  carry  on  the 
war  he  had  undertaken  unaltered  as  to  its  objective  of 
winning  a  victory  for  Harrison  over  Trabue  and  the 
myrmidons  of  A.  O.  and  G.,  but  he  meant  to  bring  in 
that  victory  in  such  a  guise  that  the  native  would 
share  in  the  division  of  the  spoils.  He  knew  that 
Harrison,  if  he  had  an  intimation  of  such  an  amend- 
ment of  plan,  would  sharply  veto  it,  but  when  the 
thing  was  done  it  would  be  too  late  to  object — and 
meanwhile  Spurrier  regarded  himself  no  less  the  trus- 
tee of  the  mountain-land  holder  than  the  servant  of 
Martin  Harrison.  He  was  willing  to  shoulder,  out  of 
his  own  stipulated  profits,  the  chief  burden  of  this 
division,  and  in  the  end  he  would  have  driven  a  better 
bargain  for  his  simple  friends  than  they  could  have 
hoped  to  attain  for  themselves. 

Yet  in  him  was  being  reborn  an  element  of  charac- 
ter, which  had  long  been  repressed. 

And  there  in  the  other  section  of  the  State  where 
political  connections  had  to  be  established  and  the 
skids  of  intrigue  greased,  much  stood  waiting  to  be 
done.  Already  most  of  what  could  be  accomplished 
here  on  the  ground  had  progressed  to  a  point  from 
which  the  end  could  be  seen. 

John  Spurrier,  the  seeming  idler,  could  control  al- 
most all  the  territory  needful  for  his  right  of  way 
• — all  except  a  tract  belonging  to  Brother  Bud  Haw- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

kins,  cautiously  left  for  the  last  because  he  wished  to 
handle  that  himself  and  did  not  yet  wish  to  appear 
in  the  negotiations. 

In  the  intricate  workings  of  such  a  project  by  a 
campaign  of  secrecy,  the  matter  was  not  only  one  of 
acquiring  a  certain  expanse  of  a  definite  sort  of  prop- 
erty in  a  given  region,  but  of  acquiring  holdings  that 
commanded  the  only  practicable  route  through  pass-- 
able gaps.  This  special  lie  and  trend  of  ground  he 
thought  of  and  spoke  of,  in  his  business  correspond- 
ence, as  "the  neck  of  the  bottle."  When  he  held  it, 
it  mattered  little  who  else  had  liquid  in  the  bottle.  It 
could  come  out  only  through  his  neck  and,  therefore, 
under  his  terms.  Yet  even  when  that  was  achieved, 
there  remained  the  need  of  the  corkscrew  without 
which  he  himself  could  make  no  use  of  his  range-wide 
jug  of  crude  petroleum.  That  corkscrew  was  the 
charter  to  be  had  from  a  legislature  where  American 
Oil  and  Gas  was  supposed  to  have  sentinels  at  the 
door. 

He  could  not  take  Glory  with  him  on  these  trips,  be- 
cause Glory  was  of  the  hills,  and  loyal  to  the  hills — 
and  he  could  not  yet  take  the  natives  into  his  confi- 
dence. For  the  same  reason  he  could  give  her  only 
business  reasons  of  the  most  general  and  evasive  char- 
acter for  leaving  her  behind. 

But  the  work  that  Spurrier  had  done  so  far  was 
only  the  primary  section  of  a  broader  design.  What 
he  had  accomplished  affected  the  oil  field  on  the  re- 
mote side  of  Hemlock  Mountain,  the  part  of  the  field 
that  the  earlier  boom  had  never  touched,  and  his 
entire  project  looked  to  a  totality  embracing  also  the 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    225 

"nigh"  side,  where  his  operations  still  existed  only  in 
projection. 

It  was  while  this  situation  stood  that  there  came 
to  him  one  day  two  letters  calling  upon  him  for  two 
irreconcilable  courses  of  action.  One  was  from  Louis- 
ville, urging  him  to  return  there  at  once  to  busy  him- 
self with  political  plannings;  the  other  was  a  rude 
scrawl  from  Sam  Mosebury  setting  an  appointment 
with  the  "witch  woman." 

Spurrier  was  reluctant  to  go  to  Louisville.  It  meant 
laying  aside  the  little  paradise  of  the  present  for  the 
putting  on  of  heavy  harness.  It  necessitated  another 
excuse  to  Glory,  and  more  than  that,  being  away  from 
Glory.  Yet  that  was  the  bugle  call  of  his  mission, 
and  he  fancied  that  whatever  threatened  him  here  in 
the  hills  was  a  menace  of  local  effect.  If  that  were 
true  he  would  not  need  the  warning  which  the  un- 
accountable desperado,  Sam  Mosebury,  meant  to  relay 
to  him  through  channels  of  alleged  magic,  until  he 
came  back. 

Therefore,  the  witch  could  wait.  But  in  that  de- 
tail Spurrier  erred,  and  when  he  answered  the  sum- 
mons that  called  him  to  town  without  his  occult  con- 
sultation, he  unwittingly  discarded  a  warning  which 
he  needed  there  no  less  than  in  the  hills. 

He  was  called  upon  to  choose  a  turning  without 
pause,  and  he  followed  his  business  instincts.  It  hap- 
pened that  instinct  misled  him. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

ONE  afternoon  Trabue,  the  unadvertised  dicta- 
tor of  American  Oil  and  Gas,  sat  with  several 
of  his  close  subordinates  in  a  conference  that 
had  to  do  with  Martin  Harrison,  the  man  he  assumed 
to  ignore. 

"Unless  some  unforeseen  thing  sends  oil  soaring," 
ventured  Oliver  Morris,  "this  fellow  Spurrier  is  hav- 
ing his  trouble  for  his  pains.  My  idea  is  that  he's 
seeking  to  tease  us  into  counter  activity — and  trail 
after  us  in  the  profits." 

"And  if  something  should  send  oil  soaring,"  crisply 
countered  Cosgrove,  "he'd  have  us  distanced  with  a 
runaway  start." 

"Who  is  this  man  Spurrier?"  demanded  Trabue 
himself.  "What  does  our  research  department  re- 
port?" 

"He's  a  protege  of  Martin  Harrison's." 

Trabue  appeared  to  find  the  words  illuminating, 
and  a  shrewd  irony  glinted  in  his  brief  smile. 

"If  he's  Harrison's  man,  he's  out  to  knife  me — 
and  he  has  resources  at  his  back.  Tell  me  more  about 
him." 

Cosgrove  took  from  his  portfolio  a  neatly  typed 
memorandum,  and  read  from  it  aloud: 

Former  army  officer  who  gained  the  sobriquet  of  "Plunger" 
Spurrier:  Courtmartialed  and  convicted  upon  charge  of 

226 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 


murder,  and  pardoned  through  efforts  of  Senator  Beverly. 
Associated  with  various  enterprises  as  a  general  investigator 
and  initiative  expert.  Rumor  has  it  that  Harrison  is  groom- 
ing him  as  his  own  successor. 

"If  his  reputation  is  that  of  a  plunger,"  argued 
Morris,  "my  guess  is  that  he's  playing  a  long-shot 
bet  for  a  killing." 

"And  you  guess  wrong.  If  Harrison  has  picked 
this  fellow  to  wear  his  own  mantle,  the  man  is  more 
than  a  gambling  tout.  It  is  only  lunacy  to  under- 
estimate him  or  dismiss  him  with  contempt." 

Cosgrove  nodded  his  concurrence  and  amplified  it. 
"In  my  judgment  he's  something  of  a  genius  with  a 
chrome-nickeled  nerve,  but  he's  adroit  as  well  as  bold. 
He  has  operated  only  through  others  and  has  kept 
himself  inconspicuous.  Except  for  an  accident,  we 
should  have  had  no  warning  of  his  activities." 

"If  he  were  to  get  bitten  by  a  rattlesnake,"  growled 
Morris  savagely,  "it  would  be  a  lucky  thing  for  us. 
Of  course,  we  might  beguile  him  into  our  own  camp." 

Trabue  shook  his  head  in  a  decisive  negation. 

"That  would  only  notify  him  that  we  recognize  his 
effort  and  fear  it.  If  the  game's  big  enough,  we  don't 
want  him."  He  paused,  then  added  with  a  grim 
f  acetiousness  :  "As  for  your  other  suggestion,  we 
have  no  rattlesnakes  in  our  equipment." 

The  dynamic-minded  master  of  strategy  sat  bal- 
ancing a  pen-holder  on  his  extended  forefinger  for  a 
few  moments,  then  he  inquired  as  if  in  afterthought: 
"By  the  way,  I  feel  curious  as  to  how  the  tip  came  to 
us  that  this  conspiracy  was  on  foot.  You  say  that 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

except  for  an  accident  we  should  not  have  known 
it" 

Cosgrove  smiled.  "It  came  to  this  office  through 
the  regular  channels  of  our  local  agencies — and  I 
didn't  inquire  searchingly  into  the  details.  I  gath- 
ered, though,  that  the  trail  was  picked  up  by  a  sort  of 
information  tout — a  fellow  who  was  hurt  and  com- 
promised a  damage  suit  against  us.  It  seems  that  he 
is  supposed  to  be  blind — but  he  could  nonetheless  see 
well  enough  to  read  some  memoranda  that  chanced  to 
come  his  way."  The  gentleman  cleared  his  throat  al- 
most apologetically  as  he  added:  "As  I  remarked  I 
didn't  learn  the  particulars.  I  merely  took  the  in- 
formation for  what  it  might  be  worth,  and  set  our 
men  to  watching." 

"I  see,"  Trabue  made  dry  acknowledgment.  "And 
what  is  being  done  toward  watching  him?" 

"I  understand  we  have  a  man  there  who  is  assum- 
ing an  enmity  toward  us  and  who  is  ostensibly  help- 
ing Spurrier  to  build  up  political  influence." 

"I  see,"  said  Trabue  once  more,  with  even  a  shade 
more  dryness  in  his  voice. 

That  conversation  had  taken  place  quite  a  long 
while  before  the  present,  but  it  set  into  quiet  motion 
the  wheels  of  a  large  and  powerful  organization. 

The  knowledge  that  John  Spurrier  was  objection- 
able to  A.  O.  and  G.  had  filtered  through  to  more  local, 
yet  confidential,  officials,  and  through  them  to  "men  in 
the  field,"  and  it  is  characteristic  of  such  delegations 
of  authority,  that  each  department  suits  the  case  re- 
ferred to  it  to  the  practical  workings  of  its  own  en- 
vironment. 

Gentlemen   of   high   business   standing   in  lower; 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    229 

Broadway  could  permit  themselves  no  violence  of  lan- 
guage, beyond  the  intimation  that  this  upstart  was  a 
nuisance.  Translated  into  the  more  candid  brutality 
of  camp-following  parasites  in  the  wildness  of  the 
hills,  that  mild  declaration  became :  "The  man  needs 
killin'.  Let's  git  him!" 

Now,  Spurrier  found  that  the  visit  to  Louisville 
and  Lexington,  which  had  promised  to  be  the  matter 
of  weeks,  must  stretch  itself  into  months,  and  that 
until  the  convening  and  adjournment  of  the  assembly 
itself,  his  presence  would  be  as  requisite  as  that  of  a 
ship's  officer  on  the  bridge.  In  one  respect  he  was 
gratified.  American  Oil  and  Gas  seemed  serenely  un- 
suspicious of  any  danger.  Vigilance  seemed  lapsed. 
Those  men  whose  duty  it  was  to  watch  the  corpora- 
tion's interest  and  to  hold  in  line  the  needed  law- 
makers, appeared  to  regard  legislative  protection  as  a 
thing  bought  and  paid  for  and  safe  from  trespass. 

And  Spurrier,  knowing  better,  was  secretly  tri- 
umphant, but  without  Glory  he  was  far  from  happy. 

Had  he  known  what  influences  were  at  work  with 
cancerlike  corrosions  upon  her  loyalty,  what  food  was 
nourishing  her  anxiety,  he  would  have  stolen  the  time 
to  go  to  her.  Hers  was  an  anxiety  which  she  did  not 
acknowledge.  Even  to  herself  she  denied  its  existence 
and  against  any  outside  suggestion  of  inner  hurt  pride 
would  have  risen  in  valiant  resentment. 

But  in  her  heart  it  talked  on  in  whispers  that  she 
could  not  hush.  At  night  she  would  waken  suddenly, 
wide-eyed  with  apprehension  and  seek  to  reassure  her- 
self by  the  emphasis  of  her  avowals:  "He's  not 
ashamed  of  me.  He's  not  leaving  me  because  of  that ! 


230    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

He's  a  big  man  with  big  business,  and  some  day  he'll 
take  me  with  him,  everywhere!" 

When  old  Cappeze,  a  man  not  given  to  unreflecting 
or  careless  speech,  flatly  questioned:  "Glory — why 
doesn't  John  ever  take  you  with  him?"  she  flinched 
and  fell  into  exculpations  that  limped. 

The  old  man  was  quick  to  note  the  pained  rawness 
of  the  nerve  he  had  touched,  and  he  began  talking  of 
something  else,  but  when  he  was  alone  once  more  his 
old  eyes  took  on  that  fanatic  absorption  that  came 
of  his  deep  love  for  his  daughter,  and  he  shook  his 
head  dubiously  over  her  future. 

One  day  a  neighborhood  woman  came  by  Glory's 
house  and  found  her  standing  at  the  door.  Tassie 
Plumford  neither  claimed  nor  was  credited  with  pow- 
ers of  magic,  but  she,  too,  might  have  been  called  a 
"witch  woman."  In  curdled  disposition  and  shrew- 
ishness of  tongue,  she  merited  the  title. 

"Waal,  waal,  Glory  Cappeze,"  she  drawled  in  her 
rasping,  nasal  voice.  "Yore  man  hes  done  built  ye  a 
right  monstrous  fine  house,  hyar,  ain't  he?" 

"Come  in  and  see  it,  Mrs.  Plumford,"  invited  the 
young  wife.  "But  my  name's  Glory  Spurrier  now 
— not  Cappeze." 

In  the  gesture  with  which  the  woman  drew  her 
shawl  tighter  about  her  lean  shoulders,  she  contrived 
to  convey  the  affront  of  suspicion  and  disbelief. 

"No,  I  reckon  I  ain't  got  ther  power  ter  tarry  now," 
she  declined.  "I  don't  git  much  time  fer  gaddin',  an' 
be  yore  name  whatsoever  hit  may,  there's  them  hyar- 
abouts  es  'lows  yore  man  lavishes  everything  on  ye  but 
his  own  self.  He's  away  from  ye  most  of  his  time, 
albeit  I  reckon  he's  got  car  fare  aplenty  fer  two." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    231 

Glory  stiffened,  and  without  a  word  turned  her  back 
on  her  ungracious  visitor.  She  went  into  the  house 
with  the  tilted  chin  of  one  who  disdains  to  answer 
insolent  slanders,  but  in  the  tenderness  of  her  heart 
the  barb  had  nonetheless  sunk  deep.  So  people  were 
saying  that! 

Over  at  Aunt  Erie  Toppitt's  the  shrew  again  halted 
— and  there  it  seemed  that  she  did  have  time  to 
"tarry,"  and  roll  the  morsel  of  gossip  under  tongue. 

"Mebby  she's  ther  furriner's  lawful  wife  an'  then 
ergin  mebby  she  ain't  nuthin'  but  his  woman,"  opined 
Tassie  Plumford.  "Hit  ain't  none  of  my  business 
nohow,  but  a  godly  woman  hes  call  ter  be  heedful 
whar  she  visits  at." 

"A  godly  woman!"  Aunt  Erie's  tone  stung  like  a 
hornet  attack.  "What  has  godliness  got  ter  do  with 
you,  anyhow,  Tassie  Plumford?  The  records  of  ther 
high  cote  over  at  Carnettsville  hes  got  yore  record  f er 
a  witness  thet  swears  ter  perjury." 

Mrs.  Plumford  trembled  wTith  rage  but,  prudently, 
ohe  elected  to  ignore  the  reference  to  her  legal  status. 

"Ef  they  was  rightfully  married,"  she  retorted,  "hit 
didn't  come  ter  pass  twell  old  man  Cappeze  diskivered 
her  alone  with  him — in  his  house — jest  ther  two  of 
'em — an'  they  wouldn't  nuver  hev  been  diskivered 
savin'  an'  exceptin'  fer  ther  attack  on  ther  furriner." 
In  the  self-satisfaction  of  one  who  has  scored,  she 
added:  "I'll  be  farin'  on  now,  I  reckon." 

"An'  don't  nuver  come  back,"  stormed  Aunt  Erie, 
whose  occasional  tantrums  were  as  famous  as  her 
usual  good  humor.  "Unless  ye  seeks  ter  hev  ther 
dawgs  sot  on  ye." 

While  the   spiteful  and   forked  little  tongues  of 


232    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

gossip  were  doing  their  serpent  best  to  poison  what 
had  promised  to  be  an  Eden  for  Glory  at  home  in  the 
hills,  the  husband  who  was  charged  with  neglecting 
her  was  miserable  in  town. 

His  work  had  been  the  breath  of  life  to  him  until 
now,  bringing  the  zestful  delight  of  prevailing  over 
stubborn  difficulties,  and  building  bridges  that  should 
carry  him  across  to  his  goal  of  financial  power.  Now 
he  found  it  a  necessity  that  exiled  him  from  a  place 
to  which  he  had  come  half -contemptuously  and  to 
which  his  converted  thoughts  turned  as  the  prayers  of 
the  true  believer  turn  toward  Mecca. 

He  who  had  been  urban  in  habit  and  taste  found 
nothing  in  the  city  to  satisfy  him.  The  smoke-filled 
air  seemed  to  stifle  him  and  fill  him  with  a  yearning 
for  the  clean,  spirited  sweep  of  the  winds  across  the 
slopes.  He  knew  that  these  physical  aspects  were 
trivial  things  he  would  have  swept  aside  had  they  not 
stood  as  emblems  for  a  longing  of  the  heart  itself — a 
nostalgia  born  of  his  new  life  and  love. 

But  all  the  plans  that  had  built  one  on  the  other 
toward  a  definite  end  of  making  an  oil  field  of  the 
barren  hills  were  drawing  to  a  focus  that  could  not  be 
neglected.  He  could  no  more  leave  these  things  un- 
done than  could  his  idol  Napoleon  have  abandoned 
his  headquarters  before  Austerlitz,  and  the  sitting  of 
the  legislature  could  not  be  changed  to  suit  his  wishes. 
Neither  could  the  lining  up  of  forces  that  were  to 
guide  his  legislation  to  its  passage  be  left  unwatched. 

So  the  absence  that  he  had  thought  would  be  brief, 
or  at  worst  a  series  'of  short  trips  away  from  home, 
was  prolonging  itself  into  a  winter  in  Louisville  and 
Frankfort.  He  found  himself  as  warily  busy  as  a 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    233 

collie  herding  a  panicky  flock,  and  as  soon  as  one 
danger  was  met  and  averted,  a  new  one  called  upon 
him  from  a  new  and  unsuspected  quarter. 

Much  of  the  deviousness  of  playing  underground 
politics  disgusted  him,  and  yet  he  knew  he  would  have 
regarded  it  only  as  an  amusing  game  for  high  stakes 
before  his  change  of  heart.  But  now  that  it  was  to  be 
a  battle  for  the  mountain  men  as  well  as  for  Martin 
Harrison  and  for  himself,  it  could  be  better  stom- 
ached. 

The  effort  to  pick  out  men  who  could  be  trusted  in 
an  enterprise  where  they  had  to  be  bought,  was  one; 
which  taxed  both  his  insight  into  human  nature  and 
his  self-esteem. 

Senator  Chew,  himself  a  mountaineer,  who  had 
come  from  a  ragged  district  to  the  state  assembly  and 
who  seemed  to  harbor  a  hatred  against  A.  O.  and  G. 
of  utter  malevolence,  was  almost  as  his  other  self, 
furnishing  him  with  eyes  with  which  to  see  and  ears 
with  which  to  hear,  and  familiarity  with  all  the  devi- 
ous, unlovely  tricks  of  lobby  processes. 

But  Senator  Chew,  a  countryman,  who  had  capital- 
ized his  shifty  wits  and  hard-won  education,  bent  his 
knee  to  the  brazen  gods  of  cupidity  and  ambition. 

"I  don't  just  see,"  he  demurred  petulantly  to  Spur- 
rier, "why  you  go  about  this  thing  the  way  you  do. 
You've  got  unlimited  capital  behind  you  and  yet  in 
going  after  these  options  you  ain't  hardly  got  hold  of 
any  more  land  than  just  enough  to  let  your  pipe  line 
through.  You  could  get  all  a  man's  property  just  as 
cheap  per  acre  as  part  of  it — and  when  I've  sweated 
blood  to  give  you  your  charter  and  you've  sweated 


234    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

blood  to  grab  your  right-of-way,  that  God-forsaken 
land  will  be  a  Klondike." 

"I  hope  so,"  smiled  Spurrier,  and  his  ally  went 
on. 

"All  right,  but  why  have  nothing  out  of  it  except 
a  pipe-line?  Why  not  have  the  whole  damn  busi- 
ness to  split  three  ways,  among  Harrison's  crowd, 
yourself — and  the  crowd  I've  got  to  handle?" 

"You're  a  mountain  man,  Senator,"  the  opportun- 
ity hound  reminded  him.  "You  know  that  in  every 
other  section  of  the  hills  to  which  development  has 
come,  the  native  has  reaped  only  a  heart-ache  and  an 
empty  belly.  I  am  purposely  taking  only  a  part  of 
each  man's  holding,  so  that  when  the  oil  flows  there 
what  he  has  left  will  be  worth  more  to  him  than  all 
of  it  was  before." 

"Hell,"  growled  the  politician.  "The  men  you 
ought  to  think  about  making  money  for,  are  the  men 
you  need — like  me,  and  the  men  who  back  you,  like 
Harrison.  These  local  fellows  won't  thank  you,  and 
in  my  opinion  you're  a  fool,  if  you'll  permit  me  to 
talk  plain." 

"Talk  as  plain  as  you  like,  Senator,"  smiled  the 
other.  "But  I  think  I'm  acting  with  right  sound 
sense.  Our  field  can  be  more  profitably  developed 
among  friends  than  among  enemies — even  if  no  con- 
sideration other  than  the  practical  enters  into  the  prob- 
lem." 

It  was  not  until  Christmas  time  that  Spurrier  broke 
away  from  his  activities  in  Louisville,  and  then  he 
came  bearing  gifts  and  with  a  heart  full  of  eagerness. 
He  came  elated,  too,  at  the  fair  promise  of  his  pros- 
pects, and  confident  of  victory. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    235 

So  Glory  hid  the  fears  that  had  been  growing  in 
her  heart  and,  because  of  the  tidal  power  of  personal 
fascination  and  contact,  she  found  it  an  easy  task. 
While  Spurrier  was  with  her,  those  fears  seemed  to 
lose  their  substance  and  to  stand  out  as  absurdities. 
They  were  delirious  miasmas  dissipated  by  the  sun  and 
daylight  of  companionship. 

Spurrier  kept  most  of  his  valuable  papers  in  a 
safety  vault  in  Louisville,  but  for  purposes  of  refer- 
ence here,  he  maintained  a  complete  system  of  carbon 
copies,  and  these  must  be  stored  in  some  place  where 
he  could  feel  sure  they  were  immune  from  any  prying 
eye.  The  entire  record  of  his  proceedings  would  be 
clear  to  any  reader  of  those  memoranda. 

While  Glory  was  away  one  day,  he  removed  a  sec- 
tion of  the  living-room  wall  and  fashioned  something 
in  the  nature  of  a  secret  cabinet,  upon  which  he  could 
rely  for  these  purposes.  Before  he  went  away  again 
he  shared  that  secret  with  her,  since  in  certain  exig- 
encies it  might  be  needful  that  someone  should  be 
able  to  act  on  wired  instructions.  He  showed  her  the 
bit  of  molding  that  was  removable  and  which  gave 
entrance  to  the  hidden  recess. 

"In  that  strong  box,"  he  told  her,  "are  papers  of 
vital  importance.  If  I  haven't  taken  you  entirely 
into  my  confidence  about  them  all,  dear,  it's  because 
they  concern  other  people  more  closely  than  myself. 
All  my  own  affairs  are  yours — but  in  the  service  of 
others,  I  must  obey  instructions  and  those  instruc- 
tions are  rigid." 

He  took  out  one  envelope,  .though,  plainly  marked. 

"This,"  he  said,  "is  a  paper  to  be  used  only  in  case 
of  extreme  emergency.  It  is  an  order  on  the  safety- 


236    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

deposit  people  in  Louisville  to  open  my  vault  to  the 
bearer.  In  the  event  of  my  death,  or  if  I  should  wire 
you  from  a  distance,  I  would  want  you  to  use  it." 

Even  that  admittance  into  the  veiled  sanctum  of 
his  business  life  pleased  Glory,  and  she  nodded  her 
head  gravely. 

She  did  not  tell  him,  and  he  did  not  guess,  that 
tongues  were  wagging  in  his  absence,  and  that  peo- 
ple said  she  was  good  enough  only  for  that  part  of 
his  life  in  which  he  shed  his  white  collar  and  his 
"fine  manners"  and  donned  the  rougher  habiliments 
of  the  back-woods. 

Even  when  she  learned  that  his  coming  back  had 
been  only  to  spend  the  holidays  with  her  and  that  he 
must  leave  again  to  be  gone  for  weeks,  at  least,  she 
let  none  of  the  disquiet  that  smouldered  in  her  find 
an  utterance  in  words. 

On  a  fine  old  Blue  Grass  estate,  which  exhaled  the 
elegance  and  ease  of  the  Old  South,  lived  Colonel 
Merriwell,  a  life-long  friend  of  Dyke  Cappeze.  In 
years  long  gone  he  had  more  than  once  sought  to 
have  Cappeze  transfer  his  activities  to  a  wider  field. 
Now,  timber  interests  called  him  to  the  mountains, 
and  though  the  cold  weather  had  set  in,  his  daughter 
chose  to  come  with  him.  She  had  heard  much  of  the 
strange  and  retarded  life  of  the  mountains,  and  be- 
cause it  was  so  different  from  the  refinements  with 
which  she  had  always  been  surrounded,  she  wanted  to 
see  it. 

When  they  arrived  after  traveling  conditions  that 
warranted  every  conception  of  quaintness,  but  vio- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    237 

lated  every  demand  of  comfort,  the  girl  from  the 
Bluegrass  found  Glory  a  discovery. 

At  once  she  recognized  that  into  any  drawing-room 
this  wilderness-bred  girl  could  be  safely  dropped,  and 
that  even  though  she  stood  in  a  corner,  she  would 
soon  become  its  center. 

Helen  Merriwell  was  fascinated  by  the  anomaly  of 
an  inherent  aristocracy  in  an  encompassing  life  which 
was  almost  squalid,  and  a  bond  of  sympathy  sprang 
into  instant  being.  The  Bluegrass  woman  knew  by 
instinct,  though  through  no  utterance  from  the  loyal 
lips,  that  the  other  was  lonely,  and  when  Colonel 
Merriwell  announced  his  intention  of  returning  home, 
the  daughter  decided  to  continue  her  visit  and  its 
companionship. 

To  Spurrier's  house,  too,  during  the  crisp,  clear 
weather  of  late  winter  came,  without  announcement 
or  expectation  another  visitor.  They  were  two  other 
visitors  to  be  exact,  but  one  so  overshadowed  his 
companion  in  importance  that  the  second  became 
negligible. 

At  the  Carnettsville  station  the  daily  train  drew  up 
one  morning  and  uncoupled,  on  a  siding,  the  first  pri- 
vate car  that  had  ever  run  over  that  piece  of  roadbed. 
Its  chef  and  valet  gazed  superciliously  down  upon  the 
assembled  loungers,  but  the  two  gentlemen  who 
alighted  and  gave  their  names  as  Martin  Harrison 
and  his  secretary,  Mr.  Spooner,  were  to  all  appear- 
ances "jest  ordinary  folks." 

Glory  was  housecleaning  on  the  day  of  Harrison's 
coming,  and,  in  neatly  patched  gingham  and  dust-pro- 
tected crown,  she  came  nearer  seeming  the  typical 
mountain  woman  than  she  had  for  many  days  before. 


238    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Her  fresh  beauty  was  hard  to  eclipse,  but  she  was  less 
presentable  than  she  wished  to  be  when  her  husband's 
great  patron  saw  her  for  the  first  time  and  contrasted 
her  with  such  women  as  his  own  daughter. 

When  she  heard  the  name,  without  previous  warn- 
ing, a  sort  of  panic  possessed  her  and  for  once  she 
became  tongue-tied  and  awkward,  so  that  after  the 
first,  Helen  Merriwell  stepped  into  the  breach  and  did 
the  talking. 

"My  name  is  Martin  Harrison,"  said  the  great  man 
with  simple  cordiality.  "I  thought  John  Spurrier 
lived  here — but  I  seem  to  be  mistaken." 

"He — he  does  live  here,"  stammered  Glory,  catch- 
ing the  swiftly  stifled  amazement  of  the  magnate's 
disapproving  eyes. 

"Here?"  He  put  the  question  blankly  as  if  only 
politeness  prevented  a  greater  vehemence  of  surprise. 
"But  I  expected  to  find  a  bachelor  establishment. 
There  are  ladies  here." 

Glory  fell  back  a  step  as  if  in  retreat  under  attack. 
If  this  statement  were  true,  Spurrier  had  never  ac- 
knowledged her  to  the  employer  with  whom  his  rela- 
tions were  intimately  close.  In  her  own  eyes,  she 
stood  as  one  who  had  lost  caste  and  been  repudiated — 
and  all  self-confidence  abandoned  her,  giving  way  to 
trepidation. 

Harrison  stood  bewilderedly  looking  at  this  country 
girl  who  had  turned  tremulous  and  pale,  and  Helen 
Merriwell  stepped  forward. 

"Then  you  didn't  know  that  Mr.  Spurrier  was  mar- 
ried?" she  smilingly  inquired. 

The  money  baron  transferred  his  glance  to  her  as 
his  shadowed  face  lightened  into  relief.  This  young 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    239 

woman  had  the  poise  and  ease  of  his  own  world,  which 
made  communication  facile.  If  Spurrier  had  not  been 
candid  with  him,  at  all  events  he  had,  perhaps,  not 
unclassed  himself.  The  other  was  presumably  a  local 
servant  of  whom  he  need  think  no  more. 

"Mr.  Spurrier,"  he  answered  easily,  "had  not  men- 
tioned his  marriage,  probably  because  our  recent  cor- 
respondence has  all  related  to  business.  However,  I 
hold  it  unhandsome  of  him  not  to  have  done  so." 
He  paused,  then  added  deferentially:  "Of  course,  I 
am  better  prepared  now  to  felicitate  him — since  I  have 
seen  you." 

But  Helen  Merriwell  laughed  and  laid  a  hand  on 
Glory's  shoulder. 

"You  do  me  too  much  honor,  Mr.  Harrison,"  she 
assured  him.  "This  is  Mrs.  Spurrier." 

The  financier's  ingrained  politeness  for  once  failed 
him.  It  was  not  for  long,  but  in  the  breached  instant 
he  stiffened  arrogantly  as  his  eyes  went  back  to  Glory, 
and  betrayed  themselves  in  half-contemptuous  hos- 
tility. The  lieutenant  whom  he  had  chosen  as  his  own 
successor  in  the  world  of  lofty  affairs  had  not  only 
deceived  him  but  had  thrown  himself  wantonly  away 
upon  a  stammering  daughter  of  illiterates! 

Martin  Harrison  bowed  again,  but  this  time  with  a 
precise  formality. 

"I  didn't  notify  Mr.  Spurrier  of  my  coming,  since 
I  felt  sure  I  would  find  him  here,"  he  explained  briefly, 
directing  himself  pointedly  to  Helen  Merriwell.  "I 
am  on  my  way  south,  so  now  I'll  defer  seeing  him 
until  another  time — unless  you  expect  him  back 
shortly?" 

Helen  turned  inquiringly  to  Glory  and  Glory  shook 


240    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

her  head.  The  episode,  confirming  her  own  anxieties, 
had  unnerved  her  steadfast  courage  into  collapse. 

Had  any  warning  come  to  her  in  advance  of  the 
event  her  bearing  toward  this  stranger  would  have 
been  a  different  one.  The  pride  that  bowed  submis- 
sively to  no  one  except  in  love,  would  have  sustained 
her.  The  natural  dignity  which  was  the  gift  of  her 
blood  would  have  been  the  thing  that  any  observer 
must  have  first  and  last  recognized.  With  a  chance  to 
have  shaped  her  attitude,  Glory  would  have  received 
Harrison  as  a  Barbarian  princess  might  have  met  an 
ambassador  from  Rome,  but  no  such  chance  had  been 
afforded  her  and  she  stood  as  distraught  and  as 
panicky  as  a  stage-struck  child  whose  speech  fails. 

She  even  slid  back  into  the  rough-hewn  vernacular 
that  had  been  so  completely  banished  from  her  lips 
and  custom. 

"I  ain't  got  ther  power  ter  say,"  she  faltered,  "when 
he'll  git  back.  He's  goin'  ter  Frankfort  first." 

"I'll  write  to  him  there,"  said  the  capitalist. 

Harrison  departed  with  the  stiff  dignity  of  an 
affronted  sachem,  and  Helen  Merriwell,  looking  after 
him,  smiled  with  amusement  for  the  incident  which 
she  so  well  understood,  until  she  turned  and  saw  Glory. 

The  girl  had  wilted  back  against  the  wall  and  stood 
there  as  if  she  had  been  stricken.  Her  great,  violet 
eyes  were  brimming  with  the  spirit  of  tragedy  and 
held  the  despair  of  one  who  has  blithely  returned 
home — to  find  his  house  in  ruin  and  ashes. 

Glory  stole  away  to  her  own  room,  escaping  the 
embrace  of  sympathetic  arms,  as  soon  as  she  could. 
"He's  done  denied  me  ter  his  friends,"  she  told  her- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    241 

self  wildly.  "He  dast'n't  acknowledge  me  ter  fine 
folks!" 

Then  through  the  first,  torpid  misery  of  hurt  pride, 
crept  a  more  terrifying  thought.  Spurrier  had  been 
practically  engaged  to  this  man's  daughter.  He  had 
been  diverted  from  his  purpose  by  motives  of  pity,  and 
now  that  Harrison  knew,  he  might  be  ruined — prob- 
ably would  be  ruined.  If  so  disaster  would  come  to 
him  because  of  her — and  at  last  she  rose  from  the 
chair  where  she  had  dropped  down,  collapsed,  with  a 
light  of  new  resolution  in  her  eyes. 

"If  that's  all  I'm  good  for,"  she  declared  tempestu- 
ously, "he's  got  to  be  rid  of  me," 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

DURING  the  sitting  of  the  legislature  John 
Spurrier  was  a  sporadic  onlooker,  and  his 
agents  were  as  vigilant  as  sentinels  in  a  dan- 
ger zone.  The  last  day  of  the  term  drew  to  a  wintry 
sunset,  and  when  the  clock  registered  midnight  the 
body  would  stand  automatically  adjourned  until  gavel 
fall  two  years  hence. 

Spurrier,  outwardly  a  picture  of  serenity,  but  in- 
wardly tensed  for  the  final  issue,  sat  in  the  visitors' 
gallery  of  the  Senate  chamber.  The  charter  upon 
which  all  his  hopes  hung  as  upon  a  fulcrum  was  all 
but  in  his  grasp.  Seemingly  the  enemy  slept  on.  Pre- 
sumably in  those  last  tired  hours  the  authorizing  bill 
would  slip  through  to  passage  with  the  frictionless 
ease  of  well-oiled  bearings. 

The  needed  men  had  been  won  over.  Carping  critics 
might  prate,  here  and  there,  of  ugly  means  that 
savored  of  bribery,  but  that  was  academic.  The 
promise  of  forth-coming  victory  remained.  Methods 
may  be  questionable.  Results  are  not,  and  Spurrier 
was  interested  in  results. 

A.  O.  and  G.  had  corrupted  and  suborned  certain 
public  servants.  He  had  discovered  their  practice  and 
played  their  own  cards  to  their  undoing.  His  ostensi- 
ble clients  were  perhaps  little  cleaner-handed  than  their 
adversaries,  but  certainly,  those  other  clients  who  did 

242 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    243 

not  even  know  themselves  to  be  represented  stood  with 
no  stain  on  their  claims. 

Those  native  men  and  women  had  not  asked  him  to 
safeguard  them,  and  had  they  been  able  to  see  what 
he  was  doing  they  would  have  guessed  only  that,  after 
winning  their  faith,  he  was  bent  on  swindling  them. 
But  Spurrier  knew  not  only  the  seeming  facts  but 
those  which  lay  beneath  and  he  fought  with  a  definite 
sense  of  stewardship. 

First  the  coup  must  succeed,  since  that  success  was 
the  foundation  of  all  the  rest,  and  the  moment  was  at 
hand. 

For  this  he  had  slaved,  faced  dangers  and  deprived 
himself  of  the  contentment  of  home  and  the  society  of 
his  wife.  Now  it  was  about  to  end  in  victory. 

The  enemy  had  been  caught  napping,  and  the  vic- 
tory would  be  his.  Certainly  he  had  been  as  fair  as 
the  foe.  What  now  remained  was  a  perfunctory  con- 
firmation by  the  Senate,  and  in  these  final  wearied 
hours  it  would  slip  through  easily  in  the  general 
wind-up  of  uncontested  affairs. 

Spurrier  had  not  slept  for  two  days — or  had  slept 
little.  When  this  ended  he  would  go  to  his  bed  and 
lie  there  in  sunken  hours  of  restoration  the  clock 
around — and  after  that  back  to  Glory.  Already  he 
carried  in  his  pocket  the  brief  message  which  he 
meant  to  put  upon  the  wires  to  Harrison,  at  the  mo- 
ment of  midnight  and  success.  Characteristically  it 
read:  "Complete  victory.  Spurrier." 

Now  as  the  clerk  droned  through  the  mass  of  un- 
finished matters  that  burdened  the  schedule,  the 
clock  stood  at  ten  in  the  evening,  and  a  spirit  of  dis- 
ordered peevishness  proclaimed  itself  in  the  chamber. 


244    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Seats  were  vacated.  Voices  rose  in  unparliamentary 
clamor. 

From  the  desk  where  a  mountain  senator  sat  in 
touseled  disarray,  a  flask  was  drawn  and  tipped  with 
scant  regard  to  senatorial  dignity.  Then  the  chair- 
man of  the  committee  which  had  the  steering  of  Spur- 
rier's affairs  arose  and  handed  a  paper  to  the  clerk. 

Spurrier  himself  maintained  the  same  unemotional 
cast  of  countenance  with  which,  years  before,  he  had 
watched  a  horse  in  the  stretch  battling  for  more  than 
he  could  afford  to  lose,  but  Wharton,  who  sat  at  his 
side,  chewed  nervously  on  an  unlighted  cigar.  Sleepy 
reporters  yawned  at  the  press  tables  as  the  clerk  droned 
out  his  sing-song,  "An  act  entitled  an  act  conferring 
charter  rights  upon  the  Hemlock  Pipe  Line  Company 
of  Kentucky." 

The  reading  of  the  measure  seemed  devoid  of  in- 
terest or  attention.  It  went  forward  in  confusion, 
yet  when  it  was  ended  the  mountain  man  who  had 
taken  the  swig  out  of  his  flask,  came  slowly  to  his 
feet. 

"Mr.  President  of  the  Senate,"  he  drawled,  "I 
want  to  address  a  few  incongruvial  remarks  to  the 
senators  in  regards  to  this  here  proposed  measure." 

With  a  sudden  sense  of  premonition  Spurrier  found 
himself  sitting  electrically  upright. 

That  man  was  Senator  Chew  who  had  sat  in  council 
with  him  and  advised  him;  his  right  hand  in  action 
and  his  fox-brain  in  planning,  yet  now,  with  every 
moment  invaluable  he  was  burning  up  time! 

He  was  a  pygmy  among  small  men,  and  as  he 
drooled  on  he  seemed  to  urge  no  pertinent  objection. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    245 

Yet  before  he  had  been  five  minutes  on  his  feet  his 
intent  was  clear  and  his  success  assured. 

Out  of  the  hands  of  their  recognized  lieutenants 
A.  O.  and  G.  had  taken  the  matter  of  serving  them. 
Into  the  hands  of  this  obscure  and  loutish  Solon  who 
was  ostensibly  pledged  to  their  enemies,  they  had 
thrust  their  commission,  and  now  with  the  clock  creep- 
ing forward  toward  adjournment,  he  meant  to  talk 
the  charter  measure  to  death  by  holding  the  floor  until 
the  opportunity  for  a  vote  had  elapsed. 

Tediously  and  inanely  he  meandered  along,  and  no 
one  knew  what  he  was  talking  about.  In  extravagant 
metaphor  and  florid  simile  he  indulged  himself — and 
the  clock  worked  industriously,  an  ally  not  to  be 
unduly  hurried. 

"Gentlemen  of  the  Senate — "  he  drooled,  "most 
of  us  have  been  raised  in  a  land  that  knows  little  of 
the  primitive  features  that  make  up  life  with  us,  and 
though  it  may  not  at  first  seem  germane  or  pertinent, 
I  want  you  to  go  with  me  as  your  guide,  while  I  try 
to  make  you  see  the  life  of  those  steep  counties  that 
are  affected  by  the  measure  before  you;  counties  that 
lie  behind  the  barriers  and  sleep  the  ancient  sleep  of 
the  forgotten." 

Men  yawned  while  his  tediousness  spun  itself  into 
a  tawdry  flow  of  slow  words,  but  the  Honorable  Mr. 
Chew  talked  on. 

"Many  the  day,  as  a  lad,  have  I  lain  by  a  rushing 
brook,"  he  declaimed,  "where  the  water  gushes  with 
the  sparkle  of  sunlit  crystal  and  watched  the  deer 
come  down  on  gingerly  lifted  feet  to  drink  his  fill. 
Now  I  reckon  mighty  few  of  you  gentlemen  have  seen 
a  deer  come  down  to  drink " 


246    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

The  minute  hand  of  the  clock,  in  comparison  with 
this  windy  deliberation  seemed  to  be  racing  between 
the  dial  characters. 

"In  God's  name,"  exclaimed  Spurrier,  "isn't  there 
any  way  to  shut  that  fool  up?  He's  ruining  us.  Get 
some  of  our  leaders  up  here,  Wharton.  We've  got 
to  stop  him." 

"How?"  demanded  Wharton  with  a  fallen  jaw. 

"I  don't  give  a  damn  how!  Kill  him — buy  him. 
Anything !" 

"It's  too  late,"  responded  Wharton  grimly.  "He's 
already  bought.  We've  walked  into  their  trap.  We 
might  as  well  go  home." 

Spurrier  sent  for  his  whip,  but  he  had  come  to  the 
end  of  his  resourcefulness  and  shook  a  dejected  head. 

"If  you  want  to  shoot  him  down  as  he  stands 
there,"  said  the  gentleman  testily,  "I  dare  say  it 
would  stop  him  short.  I  know  no  other  way.  He 
is  having  resort  to  the  senatorial  privilege  of  fili- 
buster. We  have  let  them  slip  up  on  us.  A.  O.  and 
G.  has  outbid  you,  that's  all." 

"But  how  in  God's  name  did  they  get  wise?" 

The  other  laughed  grimly.  "Wise?"  he  snorted. 
"My  guess  is  that  they've  been  wise  all  the  time  and 
that  hayseed  Iscariot  has  been  playing  us  along  for 
suckers." 

Held  by  a  deadly  fascination,  Spurrier  sank  back 
into  his  seat.  The  clock  over  the  speaker's  desk  trav- 
eled once,  almost  twice  around  the  dial,  and  yet  that 
nasal  voice  wandered  on  in  an  endless  stream  of 
grotesque  bombast — talking  the  charter  to  a  slow 
death  by  strangulation. 

Now,    reflected    Spurrier   bitterly,    his    connection 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    2*7 

with  the  enterprise  must  seem  to  any  eye  that  viewed 
it  that  only  of  Harrison's  jackal  and  lobbyist,  who  had 
signally  failed  in  his  attempt  to  raid  A.  O.  and  G. 

To  the  mountain  folk  themselves,  if  the  facts  ever 
percolated  into  the  hills,  his  seeming  would  be  far 
from  heroic  and  with  nothing  tangible  accomplished, 
it  would  do  no  good  to  tell  them  that  he  had  made 
his  fight  with  their  interests  at  heart.  Such  a  claim 
would  only  stamp  him  in  the  face  of  contrary  evi- 
dence as  taking  a  coward's  refuge  in  lies. 

Then  when  it  seemed  to  him  that  he  could  no  longer 
restrain  himself,  Spurrier  heard  the  gavel  fall.  It 
was  a  light  sound,  but  it  crashed  on  his  brain  with 
thunders  of  destruction. 

"Gentlemen,"  declared  the  presiding  officer.  "The 
Senate  stands  adjourned,  sine  die" 

Had  John  Spurrier  gone  to  see  the  "witch  woman" 
when  Mosebury  advised  it,  his  course  from  that  point 
on  would  have  brought  him  to  a  different  ending. 

In  looking  back  on  that  night,  he  could  never  quite 
remember  it  with  consecutive  distinctness.  Gaps  of 
forgetfulness  were  fitfully  shot  through  with  discon- 
nected scraps  of  recollection.  When  events  began  to 
marshal  themselves  into  orderly  sequence,  the  window- 
panes  of  his  hotel  room  were  turning  a  dirty  gray 
with  the  coming  of  dawn,  and  he  was  sitting  in  a 
straight-backed  chair.  His  bed  had  not  been  touched. 
Back  of  that  lay  a  chaotic  sense  of  irremediable  dis- 
aster and  despair. 

At  last  he  caught  a  glimpse  of  himself  in  the 
mirror,  and  that  picture  of  disheveled  wildness 
startled  him  and  brought  him  back  to  realization. 

Then  self -contempt  swept  in  on  him.    He  had  been 


248    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

called  a  man  of  iron  nerve;  a  plunger  who  never 
turned  a  hair  under  reversals  of  fortune — and  now  he 
stood  looking  through  the  glass  at  a  broken  gambler 
with  frenzied  eyes.  It  was  such  a  face  as  one  might 
see  in  the  circle  before  the  Casino  at  Monte  Carlo — the 
place  of  suicides. 

The  man  who  had  seemed  to  come  from  nowhere 
and  who  had  talked  last  night  with  such  destructive 
volubility,  had  been  a  pure  shyster.  To  be  outwitted 
by  such  a  clown  carried  the  sting  of  chagrin,  quite 
apart  from  the  material  disaster.  Yet  into  his  dis- 
ordered thoughts  came  the  realization  that  the  senator 
had  been  only  a  puppet.  His  actuating  wires  had  been 
pulled  by  the  ringers  of  A.  O.  and  G.  and  the  men  who 
sat  as  overlords  of  A.  O.  and  G.  were  only  shysters 
of  a  greater  caliber.  The  men  whom  he,  himself, 
served  were  no  better.  Compared  to  this  backwoods 
statesman  he,  John  Spurrier,  was  as  a  smooth  and 
sophisticated  confidence  man  paralleled  with  a  pick- 
pocket. Ethically,  they  were  cut  from  the  same  cloth, 
though  to  differing  patterns — one  rustic  and  the  other 
urban. 

He  had  been  engaged  in  a  tawdry  game,  for  all  its 
gilding  of  rich  prospects,  but  in  the  face  of  defeat  a 
man  cannot  change  his  colors. 

Had  he  been  able  to  undertake  this  fight  as  his  own 
man  and  choose  his  own  methods — changing  them  as 
he  grew  in  stature — there  might  have  been  a  man's 
zest  in  the  game. 

Now,  less  than  ever,  could  he  speak  open  truth  to 
these  simple  friends  who  had  trusted  him.  Now  he 
must  fight  out  a  damaged  campaign  to  the  end  along 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    249 

the  lines  to  which  he  stood  committed,  and  until  the 
end  there  was  nothing  to  say. 

Perhaps  if  he  could  avert  total  ruin,  he  might  yet 
have  opportunity  to  reclaim  the  confidence  of  these 
Esaus  who  had  traded  for  a  mess  of  pottage.  Cer- 
tainly they  had  nothing  to  hope  for  from  the  myrmi- 
dons of  Trabue. 

John  Spurrier  forced  his  shoulders  back  into  mili- 
tary erectness.  He  compelled  his  lips  into  the  stiff 
and  counterfeited  curvature  of  a  smile. 

Not  only  had  every  resource  he  could  muster  gone 
into  the  scrapped  enterprise,  leaving  him  worse  than 
bankrupt,  but  through  him  Martin  Harrison  had  been 
led  into  the  sinking  of  a  fortune. 

Harrison  would,  in  all  likelihood,  be  less  bitter 
about  the  money  loss,  than  the  thought  of  the  trium- 
phant smile  on  Trabue's  thin  lips,  but  it  was  quite  in 
the  cards  that,  with  his  contempt  for  failure,  he 
would  wash  his  hands  of  Spurrier. 

That,  of  course,  spelled  ruin.  The  exhibition  skater 
had  gone  through  the  thin  ice. 

Harrison  could,  if  he  chose,  do  more  than  dismiss 
John  Spurrier.  He  had  seen  to  it  that  his  lieutenant 
was  bound  to  his  standards  by  debts  he  could  not  pay, 
save  out  of  some  future  enrichment  contingent  on  suc- 
cess. If  he  chose  to  call  those  loans  he  would  leave 
his  employee  shattered  beyond  hope  of  recovery. 

But  when  Spurrier  went  down  to  the  hotel  dining 
room  at  breakfast  time,  a  cold  bath  and  a  superhuman 
exertion  of  will  power  had  transformed  him.  His 
bearing  was  a  nice  blending  of  the  debonair  and  the 
dignified. 

To  no  eye  of  observation  was  there  any  trace  of 


250    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

collapse  or  reversal.  He  seemed  the  man  who  de- 
manded the  best  from  life  and  who  got  it. 

At  a  table  not  far  from  his  own  sat  Senator  Chew 
with  a  companion  whom  Spurrier  did  not  know.  The 
traitor  glanced  up  and  his  eye  met  that  of  the  man  he 
had  betrayed,  then  fell  flinching. 

Perhaps  the  mountaineer  expected  the  dining  room 
to  stage  such  a  scene  of  recrimination  and  violence  as 
it  had  in  the  past  on  more  than  one  occasion,  for  his 
crafty  face  went  brick  red,  then  darkened  into  trucu- 
lence  as  he  half  pushed  back  his  chair  and  his  hand 
swept  tentatively  toward  his  hip. 

But  the  plunger  had  still  his  pride  left,  or  its  rem- 
nant, and  it  was  no  part  of  his  plan  to  stand  the  self- 
confessed  and  vanquished  victim,  by  any  patent  demon- 
stration of  wrath.  He  met  the  eyes  of  the  politician 
who  had  played  on  both  sides  of  the  same  game,  and 
smiled,  and  if  there  was  contempt  in  the  expression, 
it  was  recognized  only  by  the  man  who  knew  its 
cause. 

Later  he  wrote  a  telegram  to  Harrison.  It  was  not 
the  thing  he  had  expected  to  say,  yet  in  it  went  no 
whine  of  despair: 

Have  suffered  a  temporary  reversal. 

Those  were  the  words  that  the  capitalist  read  when 
the  message,  after  being  decoded  from  its  cipher,  was 
laid  on  his  desk. 

Harrison,  recently  returned  from  his  Southern  trip, 
thought  truculently  of  that  near-by  office  in  which 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    251 

Trabue   was  also  receiving  telegraphic   information, 
and  he  writhed  in  the  wormwood  of  chagrin. 
The  curtness  of  his  response  scorched  the  wires: 

Explain  in  person  if  you  can.    Otherwise  we  separate. 

So  John  Spurrier  packed  his  bag  and  caught  the 
first  train  for  the  mountains.  He  must  say  good-by 
to  Glory,  before  facing  this  final  ordeal,  and  he  be- 
lieved that  in  that  clarifying  air  he  could  brace  him- 
self for  the  encounter  that  awaited  him  in  New  York. 

As  he  turned  into  the  yard  of  his  own  house  he 
paused,  and  something  about  his  heart  tightened  until 
it  unsteadied  him.  Here  alone,  in  all  the  world,  he 
had  known  what  home  meant,  and  in  his  heart  and 
veins  rose  an  intoxicating  tumult  like  that  of  wine. 

Back  of  that  emotional  wave  though  lurked  a  misery 
of  self-reproach.  Glory  had  made  the  magic  of  his 
brief  happiness,  but  there  was  a  background,  too,  of 
kindly  souls  and  a  ruggedly  genuine  welcome.  He 
had  learned  to  know  these  people  and  to  revise  his 
first,  false  views  of  them.  In  them  dwelt  the  stout 
honesty  and  real  strength  of  oak  and  hickory. 

First  he  had  striven  to  plunder  them,  then  sought  to 
lift  the  yoke  of  poverty  from  their  long-bowed  shoul- 
ders. In  both  efforts  he  had  failed. 

But  had  he  failed,  after  all?  Certainly  he  stood 
under  the  black  shadow  of  a  major  disaster,  but  had 
not  others  retrieved  disasters  and  made  final  victory 
only  the  brighter  for  its  contrast  with  lurid  mis- 
fortune? 

He  had  been  the  plunger  who  seemed  strongest 


252    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

when  he  was  weakest,  and  these  enduring  hills  spoke 
their  message  of  steadfastness  to  him  as  he  stood  sur- 
rounded by  their  lofty  crests  of  spruce  and  pine. 

Then  he  had  reached  the  door  and  flung  it  open 
and  Glory  was  in  his  arms,  but  unaccountably  she  had 
burst  into  a  tempest  of  tears. 

Before  he  had  had  time  to  speak  of  the  necessity 
that  called  him  East  she  was  telling  of  the  visit  of 
Martin  Harrison  and  his  indignant  departure. 

Despite  his  all-consuming  absorption  of  a  moment 
before,  Spurrier  drew  away,  chilled  by  that  announce- 
ment, and  Glory  read  in  his  eyes  a  momentary  agony 
of  apprehension. 

"In  God's  name,"  he  demanded  in  a  numbed  voice, 
"why  didn't  you  write  me  about  that?" 

"He  said,"  responded  the  wife  simply,  "that  he 
would  write  to  you  at  Frankfort.  I  thought  you 
knew." 

"But  I  should  have  thought  you'd  have  spoken  of 
his  coming  and  going — like  that." 

Her  head  came  up  with  a  brief  little  flash  of  hurt 
pride. 

"You  hadn't  ever  told  him — about  me,"  she  said, 
though  without  accusation.  "I  didn't  want  to  talk  to 
you  about  it  until  you  were  ready  to  suggest  it.  It 
might  have  seemed — disloyal." 

Spurrier  again  braced  his  shoulders.  After  a  mo- 
ment he  took  her  in  his  arms. 

"Glory,  my  sweetheart,  I've  been  playing  a  game 
for  big  stakes.  I've  had  to  do  some  things  I  didn't 
relish.  I've  got  to  do  another  now.  I'm  summoned 
to  Harrison's  office  in  New  York,  at  once — and  I 
have  no  choice." 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    25ft 

Glory  drew  away  and  looked  with  challenging  di- 
rectness into  his  eyes. 

"I  suppose — you'll  go  alone?" 

"I  must.  Business  affairs  are  at  a  crisis,  and  I  need 
a  free  hand.  But,  God  granting  me  a  safe  return,  it's 
to  be  our  last  separation.  I  swear  that.  I  am  always 
wretched  without  you." 

Always  before  when  disappointment  or  disquiet  had 
riffled  the  deeps  of  her  eyes,  it  had  taken  only  a  word 
and  a  smile  from  this  man  to  dispel  them  and  bring 
back  the  serenity  of  content.  Her  moments  of  panic 
when  she  had  seemed  to  drop  down,  down  into  pits 
of  foreboding  until  she  had  plumbed  the  depth  of 
despair,  had  been  moments  to  which  she  had  sur- 
rendered in  his  absence  and  of  which  he  had  been 
given  no  hint. 

Now  writh  a  gravity  that  was  bafflingly  unreadable 
she  stood  silent  and  looked  about  the  room,  and  the 
man's  eyes  followed  hers. 

Why  was  it,  he  almost  fiercely  demanded  of  him- 
self, that  this  cottage  set  in  remote  hills  shed  about 
him  a  feeling  of  soul-satisfaction  that  he  had  never  en- 
countered in  more  luxurious  places? 

Now  as  he  looked  at  it  the  thought  of  leaving  it 
cramped  his  heart  with  a  sort  of  breathless  agony. 

Yet,  of  course,  there  was  no  question  after  all. 
It  was  because  in  everything  it  was  reflection  of 
Glory's  own  spirit  and  to  him  Glory  stood  for  the 
only  love  that  had  ever  been  bigger  to  him  than  him- 
self. 

The  simplicity  and  good  taste  of  the  small  house, 
standing  in  a  land  of  squalid  cabins  like  a  disciple  of 
quiet  elegance  among  beggars,  had  been  the  result 


254    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

of  their  collaboration.  Glory  had  had  the  instinct 
of  artistic  perception  and  true  values  and  he  had  been 
able  to  guide  her  from  his  sybarite  experience. 

The  stone  fireplace  with  its  ingle-nook,  built  by  their 
own  hands  from  rocks  they  had  selected  and  gathered 
together,  seemed  to  him  a  beautiful  thing.  The  natural 
wood  of  the  paneling,  picked  out  at  the  saw-mill  with 
a  critical  eye  for  graining  and  figuration,  satisfied  the 
eye,  and  the  few  pictures  that  he  had  brought  from 
the  East  were  all  landscapes  that  meant  something  to 
each  of  them — lyric  bits  of  canvas  with  singing  skies. 
To  every  object  a  memory  had  attached  itself;  a 
memory  that  had  also  a  tendril  in  their  hearts. 

But  now  Glory,  too,  was  looking  at  all  these  things 
as  though  she  as  well  as  himself  were  leaving  them. 
There  was  something  of  farewell  in  the  glance  that 
lingered  on  them  and  caressed  them,  as  if  of  leave- 
taking  and  into  Spurrier's  heart  crept  the  intuition 
that  despite  his  declaration  just  made  that  this  should 
be  their  last  separation,  she  was  seeing  in  it  a  threat 
of  permanence. 

And  that  was  the  thought  that  was  chilling  Glory's 
heart  and  muting  the  song  of  happiness  which  his 
coming  had  awakened.  This  place  which  had  been 
founded  with  all  the  promise  of  home  and  compan- 
ionship was  beginning  to  hold  for  her  the  foreboding 
of  loneliness  and  something  like  abandonment.  He 
knew  it  only  when  they  were  together  here,  but  she 
had  been  in  it  alone  and  frightened  more  than  in  times 
of  shared  happiness. 

And  why  was  this  true?  Why  could  it  be  either 
true  or  necessary  unless,  as  she  had  told  herself  in 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    255 

panic  moments  and  denied  so  persistently,  she  was 
a  misfit  in  his  broader  life  and  a  woman  whom  he 
could  enjoy  in  solitude  but  dared  not  trust  to  com- 
parison with  others  ? 


CHAPTER  XIX 

AT  last  she  turned  abruptly  away,  in  order  that  the 
/-%     misery  which  would  no  longer  submit  to  con- 
cealment might  not  show  itself  in  her  eyes,  and 
stood  looking  out  of  the  window. 

Spurrier  crossed  with  anxious  swiftness  and  took 
her  again  into  his  arms. 

"When  I  have  finished  this  business  trip,"  he  de- 
clared fervently,  "our  separations  shall  end.  They 
have  been  too  many  and  too  long — but  I've  paid  for 
them  in  loneliness,  dear.  This  call,  that  I'm  answer- 
ing now,  is  unexpected  but  it's  imperative  and  I  can't 
disobey  it." 

She  turned  then,  slowly  and  gravely,  but  with  no 
lightening  of  the  burdened  anxiety  in  her  eyes. 

"It's  not  just  that  you  have  to  go  away,  Jack,"  she 
told  him.  "It's  a  great  deal  more  than  that." 

"What  else  is  there,  dearest?"  His  question  was 
intoned  with  surprise.  "When  we  are  together,  I 
have  nothing  else  to  ask  of  life.  Have  you?" 

"The  place  has  been  changed — mightily  changed," 
she  went  on  musingly  as  though  talking  to  herself 
rather  than  to  him.  "And  yet  the  walls  are  the  same 
as  they  were  that  day — when  we  both  thought  we 
had  to  die  here  together." 

"They  are  the  dearer  for  that,"  he  exclaimed  ferv- 
ently. "That  was  what  made  us  see  things  truly." 

256 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    257 

"I  wonder,",  she  questioned,  then  meeting  his  eyes 
steadily  she  went  on  as  though  determined  to  say 
what  must  be  said. 

"When  you  called  Brother  Hawkins  in  to  marry 
us,  I  was  afraid.  I  was  afraid  because  I  thought  you 
were  only  doing  it  out  of  kindness,  and  that  afterward 
you'd  be  ashamed  of  me." 

"Ashamed  of  you,"  he  echoed  with  indignant  in- 
credulity. "In  God's  name  how  could  I  be?" 

"Or  if  not  ashamed  of  me  that  you  couldn't  help 
knowing  that  I  was — what  I  am — all  right  here  in 
the  hills  but  that  outside — I  wouldn't  do." 

"If  you  were  ever  afraid  of  that,  it  was  only  be- 
cause you  were  undervaluing  yourself.  You  surely 
haven't  any  ghost  of  such  a  fear  left  now." 

For  a  little  she  stood  silent  again  torn  between  the 
loyalty  that  hesitated  to  question  him  and  the  pride 
that  was  hurt. 

Finally  she  said  simply:  "It's  a  bigger  fear  now. 
Unless  I'm  unpresentable,  why  do  you — never  take 
me  anywhere  with  you?" 

John  Spurrier  laughed,  vastly  relieved  that  the 
mountain  of  her  anxiety  had  resolved  itself,  as  he 
thought,  into  a  mole-hill.  He  could  laugh  because 
he  had  no  suspicion  of  the  chronic  soreness  of  her 
heart  and  his  answer  was  lightly  made. 

"These  trips  have  all  been  in  connection  with  the 
sort  of  business,  Glory,  that  would  have  meant  keep- 
ing me  away  from  you  whether  you  had  gone  to  town 
or  not.  When  we  travel  together — and  I  want  that 
we  shall  travel  a  great  deal — I  must  be  free  to  devote 
myself  to  you.  I  want  to  show  the  world  to  you 
and  I  want  to  show  you  to  the  world." 


258    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

That  declaration  he  fancied  ought  to  resolve  her 
fears  of  his  being  ashamed  of  her. 

"If  you  were  afraid  I'd  seem  out  of  place,"  she 
assured  him,  "I  might  be  right  sorry — and  yet  I  think 
I'd  understand.  I'm  not  a  fool  and  I  know  I'd  make 
mistakes,  but  I  was  raised  a  lawyer's  daughter  and 
I've  got  a  pretty  good  business  head — yet  you've 
never  told  me  anything  of  what  this  business  is  that 
calls  you  away.  You  always  treat  me  as  if  there 
were  no  use  in  even  trying  to  make  me  understand  it." 

The  man  no  longer  laughed.  He  could  not  explain 
that  it  was  rather  because  she  might  understand  too 
well  than  not  well  enough.  Even  to  her,  until  he  was 
ready  to  prove  his  intent  by  his  actual  deeds,  it  seemed 
impossible  to  give  that  story  without  the  seeming  of 
the  plunderer  of  her  people. 

"When  the  time  comes  that  releases  me  from  my 
pledge  of  absolute  secrecy,  dear,"  he  told  her  earn- 
estly, "I  mean  to  tell  you  all  about  my  business — and 
I  think  you'll  approve,  then.  Now  I  don't  talk  be- 
cause I  have  no  right  to." 

Again  there  was  silence,  after  which  Glory  said  in 
a  voice  of  still  resolution  which  he  had  never  heard 
from  her  before: 

"I'm  ignorant  and  uncultivated,  Jack,  but  to  me 
marriage  is  a  full  partnership — or  it  isn't  anything. 
When  Mr.  Harrison  came,  I  saw  for  the  first  time  just 
how  I  looked  to  men  like  him.  I  was  just  'pore  white 
trash.'  " 

"Did  he "  Spurrier  broke  off  and  his  face 

went  abruptly  white  with  passion.  Had  Harrison 
been  there  at  that  moment  he  would  have  stood  in 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    259 

danger  at  the  hands  of  his  employee,  but  Glory  shook 
her  head  and  hastened  to  quiet  him. 

"He  wasn't  impolite,  Jack.  It  wasn't  that — only 
I  read  in  his  eyes  what  he  tried  to  hide.  I  only  told 
you  that  because  •  I  wanted  you  to  understand  me. 
People  here  say  that  you  give  me  everything  but  your- 
self; that  I'm  not  good  enough  for  you  except  right 
here  where  there's  nothing  better." 

"That  is  a  damned  lie,"  he  expostulated.  "Who 
says  it?" 

"Only  women-folks  and  gossipy  grannies  that  you 
can't  fight  with,  Jack,"  she  answered  steadily.  "But 
I've  thought  about  it  lots.  I've  come  to  think,  dear, 
that  maybe  you  ought  to  be  free — and  if  you  ought," 
she  paused,  then  the  final  assertion  broke  from  her 
with  an  agonized  voice,  "then,  I  love  you  enough  to 
set  you  free." 

Spurrier  seized  her  in  his  arms  and  his  words  came 
choked  with  vehement  feeling. 

"I  want  you,  Glory.  I  want  you  always  and  I 
couldn't  live  without  you.  When  I  have  to  go  away  I 
endure  it  only  by  thinking  of  coming  back  to  you. 
If  you  ever  set  me  free  as  you  call  it,  it  will  be  only 
because  you  don't  want  me.  I  suppose  in  that  case  I'd 
try  to  take  my  medicine — but  I  think  it  would  about 
kill  me." 

"There's  no  danger  of  that,  dear,"  she  declared. 

The  man  drew  away  for  a  moment  and  fumbled 
for  words.  His  aptness  of  speech  had  deserted  him 
and  at  last  he  spoke  clumsily: 

"It's  hard  to  explain  just  now,  when  you've  accused 
me  of  not  taking  you  into  my  confidence,  but  I  stand 
at  a  point,  Glory,  where  I've  got  the  hardest  fight 


260    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

ahead  of  me  I  ever  made.  I  stand  to  be  ruined  or  to 
make  good.  I've  got  to  use  every  minute  and  every 
thought  in  competition  with  quick  brains  and  enor- 
mous power.  Until  its  over  I  must  be  a  machine 
with  one  idea  .  .  .  and  I'll  fail,  dear,  unless  I  can 
take  with  me  the  knowledge  that  you  trust  me." 

She  looked  up  into  his  face  and  the  misery  in  her 
eyes  gave  place  to  confidence. 

"Go  ahead,  Jack,"  she  said.  "I  believe  in  you  and 
I'm  not  even  afraid  of  your  failing."  After  a  mo- 
ment she  clasped  her  arms  tightly  about  him  and 
added  vehemently:  "But  whether  you  succeed  or  fail, 
come  back  to  me,  dear,  because,  except  for  your  sake, 
it  won't  make  any  difference  to  me." 

That  same  afternoon  Spurrier  found  time  to  visit 
the  "witch  woman."  It  had  dawned  upon  him  since 
that  night  in  the  Senate  chamber  that,  after  all,  Sim 
Colby  might  have  been  the  least  dangerous  of  his 
enemies,  and  the  thought  made  him  inquisitive. 

The  old  crone  made  her  magic  with  abundant  gro- 
tesquerie,  but  at  its  end  she  peered  shrewdly  into  his 
eyes,  and  said: 

"I  reads  hyar  in  the  omends  thet  mebby  ye  comes 
too  late." 

Spurrier  smiled  grimly.     He  thought  that  himself. 

"I  dis'arns,"  went  on  the  hag  portentously,  "thet  a 
blind  man  impereled  ye  mightily — a  blind  man  thet 
plays  a  fiddle — but  thars  others  beside  him  thet  dwells 
fur  away  an'  holds  a  mighty  power  of  wealth." 

A  blind  man !    Spurrier's  remembrance  flashed  back 
to  the  visit  of  blind  Joe  Givins  and  the  papers  in- 
cautiously left  on  his  table.     Yet  if  he  was  genuinely 
blind  they  could  have  meant  nothing  to  him — and  if 
\ 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    261 

he  was  not  genuinely  blind  it  was  hard  to  conceive  of 
human  nerves  enduring  without  wincing  that  test  of 
the  gun  thrust  against  the  temple. 

Spurrier  rose  and  paid  his  fee.  Had  he  seen  her 
in  time,  this  warning  would  have  averted  disaster. 
Now  it  was  something  of  a  post-mortem. 

At  the  door  of  Martin  Harrison's  office  several  days 
later  Spurrier  drew  back  his  shoulders  and  braced 
himself.  It  was  impossible  to  ignore  the  fact  that 
he  stood  on  the  brink  of  total  ruin ;  that  his  sole  hope 
lay  in  persuading  his  principal  that  with  more  time 
and  more  money  he  would  yet  be  able  to  succeed — and 
Harrison  was  as  plastic  to  persuasion  as  a  brass 
Buddha. 

But  he  had  steeled  himself  for  the  interview — and 
now  he  turned  the  knob  and  swung  back  the  mahogany 
door. 

Spurrier  was  familiar  enough  with  the  atmosphere 
of  that  office  to  read  the  signs  correctly.  The  hushed 
air  of  nervousness  that  hung  over  it  now  betokened  a 
chief  in  a  mood  which  no  one  sought  to  stir  to  further 
irritation. 

Always  in  the  past  Spurrier  had  been  deferentially 
ushered  into  a  private  office  and  treated  as  the  future 
chief.  Now,  as  though  he  were  already  a  disinherited 
heir,  he  was  left  in  the  general  waiting  room,  and  he 
was  left  there  for  an  hour.  That  cooling  of  the 
heel,  he  recognized  as  a  warning  of  the  cold  recep- 
tion to  come — and  an  augury  of  ruin. 

At  last  he  was  called  in,  but  he  went  with  an  un- 
ruffled demeanor  which  hid  from  the  principal's  eye 
how  near  to  breaking  his  inward  confidence  was 
strained. 


262    THE  LAW  OF  HFMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"I  wired  you  to  come  at  once,"  began  Harrison 
curtly,  and  Spurrier  smiled  as  he  nodded. 

"I  came  at  once,  sir,  except  that  I  hadn't  been 
home  for  some  time,  and  it  was  necessary  to  make  a 
stop  there." 

"Home,"  Martin's  brows  lifted  a  trifle.  "You  mean 
the  mountains." 

"Certainly — for  the  time  being,  I'm  located  there." 

"We  may  as  well  be  honest  with  each  other,"  as- 
serted the  magnate.  "I  consider  that  under  the  cir- 
cumstances you  behaved  with  serious  discourtesy  and 
without  candor."  For  a  casual  moment  his  glance 
dwelt  on  the  portrait  of  Vivien  which  stood  on  his 
table. 

"I  disagree  with  you,  sir.  I  preferred  relating  the 
full  circumstances,  which  were  unusual,  when  there 
was  an  opportunity  to  do  so  in  person.  I  was  kept 
there  by  your  interests  as  well  as  my  own." 

"That  recital,"  said  the  older  man  dryly,  "is  your 
concern.  Now  that  I  know  the  facts  I  find  myself 
uninterested  in  the  details.  You  have  chosen  your 
way.  The  question  is  whether  we  can  travel  it  to- 
gether." 

"And  I  presume  that  the  first  point  of  that  ques- 
tion demands  a  full  report  upon  the  business 
operations." 

"So  far  as  I  can  see,  they  have  collapsed."  v 

"They  have  by  no  means  collapsed." 

Suddenly  the  wrath  that  had  been  smoldering  in 
Harrison's  eyes  burst  into  tempest.  He  brought  his 
clenched  fist  down  upon  his  desk  until  inkwells  and 
accessories  rattled. 

This  man's  moments  of  equinox  were  terrifying  to 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    263 

those  who  must  bow  to  his  will — and  his  will  held 
sway  over  broad  horizons.  If  John  Spurrier  had  not 
been  intrepid  he  must  have  collapsed  under  the  wither- 
ing violence  of  the  passion  that  rained  on  him. 

"Before  God,"  cried  Harrison,  pacink  his  floor  like 
a  lion  that  lashes  itself  to  frenzy,  "you  undertook  to 
avenge  me  on  Trabue.  You  have  drawn  on  me  with 
carte-blanche  liberties  and  spent  fortunes  like  a  prodi- 
gal !  You  have  assured  me  that  you  had,  at  all  times, 
the  situation  well  in  hand.  Then,  through  some 
damned  blunder,  you  failed.  Let  the  money  loss  slide. 
Damn  the  money !  I'm  the  laughingstock  of  the  busi- 
ness world.  I'm  delivered  over  to  Trabue's  enjoyment 
as  a  boob  who  failed.  I'm  an  absurdity,  and  you're 
responsible !" 

"When  you've  finished,  sir,"  said  Spurrier  quietly, 
"I  shall  endeavor  to  show  you  that  none  of  those 
things  have  happened — that  our  failure  is  temporary 
and  that  when  you  undertook  this  enterprise  you  were 
in  no  impetuous  haste  as  to  the  time  of  its  accom- 
plishment." 

"The  legislature  doesn't  meet  for  two  years,"  Har- 
rison barked  back  at  him.  "That  will  be  two  years 
of  preparation  for  Trabue.  Now  he's  fully  warned, 
where  do  we  get  off?" 

"At  our  original  point  of  destination,  sir." 

The  opportunity  hound  began  his  argument.  His 
demeanor  of  unruffled  calm  and  entire  confidence 
began  to  exercise  its  persuasive  force.  Harrison 
cooled  somewhat,  but  Spurrier  was  righting,  beneath 
his  pose,  as  a  man  who  has  cramps  in  deep  water 
fights  for  his  life.  These  few  minutes  would  de- 


264    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

termine  his  fate,  and  he  was  totally  at  the  mercy  of 
this  single  arbiter. 

"I  have  now  all  the  options  we  need  on  the  far 
side  of  Hemlock  Mountain,"  Spurrier  summarized  at 
last.  "All  except  one  tract  which  belongs  to  Bud 
Hawkins,  who  is  a  preacher  and  a  friend  of  mine. 
He  must  have  more  generous  terms,  but  I  will  be  able 
to  do  business  with  him." 

"You  talk  of  the  options  on  the  far  side  of  the 
ridge,"  Harrison  broke  in  belligerently.  "That  is  the 
minor  field." 

"I'll  be  able  to  repeat  that  performance  on  the  near 
side." 

"You  will  not!  A  repetition  of  your  performance 
is  the  last  thing  we  crave.  Any  movement  now  would 
be  only  a  piling  up  of  warnings.  For  the  present  you 
will  give  every  indication  of  having  abandoned  the 
project." 

"That  is  my  idea,  sir.  I  was  not  speaking  of  im- 
mediate but  future  activities.  Also "  In  spite 

of  his  desperation  of  plight  the  younger  man's  bear- 
ing flashed  into  a  challenging  undernote  of  its  old 
audacity,  "when  I  used  the  word  'repeat'  I  referred 
to  the  successful  portion  of  my  effort.  There  was  no 
failure  on  the  land  end.  It  was  the  charter  that  went 
wrong — through  the  deceit  of  a  man  we  had  to  trust." 

"A  man  whom  you  selected,"  Harrison  caught  him 
up.  "You  understood,  in  advance,  the  chances  of  your 
game.  It  was  agreed  upon  your  own  insistence  that 
your  hand  should  be  absolutely  free — and  freedom 
of  method  carries  exclusiveness  of  responsibility. 
Traitors  exist.  They  don't  furnish  excuses." 

"Nor  am  I  making  them.    I  am  merely  stating  facts 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    265 

which  you  seem  inclined  to  confuse.  I  grant  the 
failure  but  I  also  claim  the  partial  success." 

Harrison  seated  himself,  and  as  the  interview 
stretched  Spurrier's  nerves  stretched  with  it  under  the 
placid  surface  of  his  plunger's  camouflage.  He  had, 
as  yet,  no  way  of  guessing  how  the  verdict  would  go, 
and  now  the  capitalist's  face  was  hardened  in  discour- 
agement. It  was  a  face  of  merciless  inflexibility.  The 
sentence  had  been  prepared  in  the  judge's  mind. 
There  remained  only  its  enunciation. 

"Nothing  is  to  be  gained  by  mincing  my  words, 
Spurrier,"  declared  Spurrier's  chief.  "We  know  pre- 
cisely where  you  stand." 

Harrison  extended  his  hand  with  its  fingers  spread 
and  closed  it  slowly  into  a  clenched  fist.  "I  hold 
you — there!  I  can  crush  you  to  a  pulp  of  absolute 
ruin.  You  know  that.  The  only  question  is  whether 
I  want,  or  not,  to  do  it." 

"And  whether,  or  not,  you  can  afford  to  do  it," 
amended  the  other  with  an  audacity  that  he  by  no 
means  felt.  "You  must  decide  whether  you  can  afford 
to  accept  tamely  and  as  a  final  defeat,  a  mere  reversal, 
which  I — and  no  one  else — can  turn  into  eventual 
victory." 

"I  have  duly  considered  that.  I  had  implicit  con- 
fidence in  your  abilities.  You  have  struck  at  my 
personal  feeling  for  you  by  a  silence  that  was  not 
frank.  You  have  allied  yourself  with  the  mountain 
people  by  marriage,  and  we  stand  on  opposite  sides  of 
the  line  of  interest.  You  have  all  the  while  been 
watched  by  our  enemies,  and  I  regard  you  as  a  de- 
feated man.  If  I  choose  to  cast  you  aside,  you  go  to 
the  scrap  heap.  You  will  never  recover." 


266    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

That  was  an  assertion  which  there  was  neither 
health  nor  wisdom  in  contradicting  and  Spurrier 
waited.  His  last  card  was  played. 

"And  I  am  going  to  cast  you  aside — bankrupt  you — 
ruin  you !"  blazed  out  Harrison,  "unless  you  absolutely 
meet  my  requirements  during  a  period  of  probation. 
That  period  will  engage  you  in  a  very  different  matter. 
For  the  present  you  are  through  with  the  Kentucky 
mountains.  The  new  task  will  be  a  difficult  one,  and 
it  should  put  you  on  your  mettle.  It  is  one  that  can't 
be  accomplished  at  all  unless  you  can  do  it.  You  have 
that  one  chance  to  retrieve  yourself.  Take  it  or 
leave  it." 

"What  are  your  terms?" 

"You  will  sail  to-morrow  for  Liverpool.  I  will  give 
you  explicit  instructions  to-night.  Go  prepared  for  an 
extended  stay  abroad." 

For  the  first  time  Spurrier's  face  paled  and  insur- 
rection flared  in  his  pupils. 

"Sail  for  Europe  to-morrow!"  he  exclaimed 
vehemently.  "I'll  see  you  damned  first!  Doesn't  it 
occur  to  you  that  a  man  has  his  human  side?  I  have 
a  wife  and  a  home  and  when  I  am  ordered  to  leave 
them  for  an  indefinite  time  I'm  entitled  to  a  breathing 
space  in  which  to  set  my  own  affairs  in  shape.  I  am 
willing  enough  to  undertake  your  bidding — but  not 
to-morrow." 

Spurrier  paused  at  the  end  of  his  outbreak  and 
stood  looking  down  at  the  seated  figure,  which  to 
all  intents  and  purposes  might  have  been  the  god  that 
held,  for  him,  life  and  death  in  his  hand. 

And  as  he  looked  Spurrier  thought  he  had  never 
seen  such  glacial  coldness  and  merciless  indifference 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    20? 

in  any  human  face.  He  had  known  this  man  in  the 
thundering  of  passion  before  which  the  walls  about 
him  seemed  to  tremble,  but  this  manifestation  of  ada- 
mant implacability  was  new,  and  he  realized  that  he 
had  invited  destruction  in  defying  it. 

"As  you  please,"  replied  Harrison  crisply,  "but  it's 
to-morrow  or  not  at  all.  I've  already  outlined  the 
alternative  and  since  you  refuse,  our  business  seems 
concluded.  Next  time  you  feel  disposed  to  talk  or 
think  of  what  you're  entitled  to,  remember  that  my 
view  is  different  All  your  claims  stand  forfeit  in 
my  judgment.  You  are  entitled  to  just  what  I  choose 
to  offer — and  no  more." 

The  chief  glanced  toward  the  door  with  a  glance 
of  dismissal,  and  the  door  became  to  Spurrier  the  em- 
blem of  finality.  Yet  he  did  not  at  once  move  to- 
ward it. 

"I  appreciate  the  need  of  prompt  obedience,  where 
there  is  an  urge  of  haste,"  he  persisted,  "but  if  a  few 
days  wouldn't  imperil  results,  I  want  those  days  to 
make  a  flying  trip  to  Kentucky  and  to  my  wife." 

The  face  of  the  seated  man  remained  obdurately  set 
but  his  eyes  blazed  again  with  a  note  of  personal  anger. 

"At  a  time  when  I  was  reasonably  interested,  you 
chose  to  leave  me  unenlightened  about  your  domes- 
tic arrangements.  Now  I  can  claim  no  concern  in 
them.  Most  wives,  however,  permit  their  husbands 
such  latitude  of  movement  as  business  requires.  If 
yours  does  not  it  is  your  own  misfortune.  I  think 
that's  all." 

Spurrier  knew  that  the  jaws  of  the  trap  were  clos- 
ing on  him.  He  had  been  too  hasty  in  his  outburst 


268    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

and  he  turned  toward  the  door,  but  as  his  hand  fell 
on  the  bronze  knob  Harrison  spoke  again. 

"Think  it  over,  Spurrier.  I  can — and  will  ruin  you 
— unless  you  yield.  It  is  no  time  for  maudlin  senti- 
ment, but  until  five-thirty  this  afternoon,  I  shall  not 
consider  your  answer  final.  Up  to  that  hour  you 
may  reconsider  it,  if  you  wish." 

"I  will  notify  you  at  five,"  responded  the  lieutenant 
as  he  let  himself  out  and  closed  the  door  behind  him. 

That  day  the  opportunity  hound  spent  in  an  agony 
of  conflicting  emotions.  That  the  other  held  a  bolt 
of  destruction  and  was  in  the  mood  to  launch  it  he 
did  not  pretend  to  doubt.  If  it  were  launched  even 
the  land  upon  which  his  cottage  stood  would  no  longer 
be  his  own.  He  must  either  return  to  Glory  empty- 
handed  and  bankrupt,  or  strain  with  a  new  tax,  the 
confidence  he  had  asked  of  her,  with  the  pledge  that 
he  would  return  soon  and  for  good. 

But  if,  even  at  the  cost  of  humbled  pride  and  Glory's 
hurt,  he  maintained  his  business  relations,  the  path  to 
eventual  success  remained  open. 

As  long  as  the  cards  were  being  shuffled  chance 
beckoned  and  at  five  o'clock  Spurrier  went  into  a 
cigar-store  booth  and  called  a  downtown  telephone 
number. 

"You  hold  the  whip  hand,  sir,"  he  announced  curtly 
when  a  secretary  had  put  Harrison  on  the  wire. 
"When  do  I  report  for  final  instructions?" 

"Come  to  my  house  this  evening,"  ordered  the 
master. 

Most  of  the  hours  of  that  evening,  except  the  two 
in  Harrison's  study,  Spurrier  spent  in  writing  to  Glory, 
tearing  up  letter  after  letter  while  the  nervous  mois- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    269 

ture  bedewed  his  brow.  It  was  so  impossible  to  give 
her  any  true  or  comprehensive  explanation  of  the 
pressing  weight  of  compulsion.  His  messages  must 
have  the  limp  of  unreason.  He  was  crossing  the  ocean 
without  her  and  she  would  read  into  it  a  sort  of 
abandonment  that  would  hurt  and  wound  her.  He 
had  taxed  everything  else  in  life,  and  now  he  was 
overtaxing  her  loyalty. 

Yet  he  believed  that  if  in  his  depleted  treasury  of 
life  there  was  one  thing  left  upon  which  he  could  draw 
prodigally  and  \yith  faith,  it  was  that  love;  a  love 
that  would  stand  staunch  though  he  were  forced  to 
hurt  it  once  again. 

So  Spurrier  sailed  and,  having  arrived  on  European 
soil,  took  up  the  work  that  threw  him  into  relations 
with  men  of  large  caliber  in  Capel  Court  and  Thread- 
needle  Street.  His  mission  carried  him  to  the  con- 
tinent as  well ;  from  Paris  to  Brussels  and  from  Brus- 
sels to  Hamburg  and  Berlin,  where  the  quaint  customs 
of  the  Kentucky  Cumberlands  seemed  as  remote  as 
the  life  of  Mars — remote  but,  to  Spurrier,  as  alluring 
as  the  thought  of  salvation  to  a  recluse  who  has  fore- 
sworn the  things  of  earth. 

In  terms  of  dead  reckoning,  Berlin  is  as  far  from 
Hemlock  Mountain  as  Hemlock  Mountain  is  from 
Berlin,  but  in  terms  of  human  relations  Glory  felt 
the  distance  as  infinitely  greater  than  did  her  husband. 
To  him  the  Atlantic  was  only  an  ocean  three  thousand 
miles  wide;  often  crossed  and  discounted  by  famili- 
arity. To  her  it  was  a  measureless  waste  separating 
all  she  knew  from  another  world.  To  him  continental 
dimensions  were  reckoned  in  hours  of  commonplace 
railway  journeying,  but  to  her  the  "measured  mile" 


270    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN  j 

was  both  lengthwise  and  perpendicular,  and  when  she 
passed  old  friends  she  fancied  that  she  detected  in 
their  glances  either  pity  for  her  desertion  or  the  smirk 
of  "I-told-you-so"  malevolence. 

It  even  crept  to  her  ears  that  "some  folks"  spoke 
of  her  as  "the  widder  Spurrier"  and  that  Tassie  Plum- 
ford  had  chuckled,  "I  reckon  he's  done  gone  off  an' 
left  her  fer  good  an'  all  this  time.  Folks  says  he's 
fled  away  cl'ar  acrost  ther  ocean-sea." 

Glory  told  herself  that  she  had  promised  faith  and 
that  she  was  in  no  danger  of  faltering,  but  as  the 
weeks  lengthened  into  months  and  the  months  fol- 
lowed each  other,  her  waiting  became  bitter. 

In  Berlin  John  Spurrier  passed  as  a  British  sub- 
ject, bearing  British  passports.  That  had  been  part 
of  the  careful  plan  to  prevent  discovery  of  what 
'American  interests  he  represented  and  it  had  proven 
effective.  He  had  almost  accomplished  the  difficult 
task  of  self-redemption,  set  him  by  the  man  whose  con- 
fidence he  had  strained. 

Then  came  the  bolt  out  of  heaven.  The  incon- 
ceivable suddenness  of  the  war  cloud  belched  and 
broke,  but  he  remained  confident  that  he  would  have 
a  chance  to  finish  up  before  the  paralysis  cramped 
bourse  and  exchange. 

England  would  not  come  in,  and  he,  the  seeming 
British  subject,  would  have  safe  conduct  out  of 
Germany. 

Now  he  must  get  back.  This  would  mean  the 
soaring  of  oil  prices,  and  along  new  lines  the  battle 
must  be  pitched  back  there  at  home,  before  it  was  too 
late. 

So  Spurrier  finished  his  packing.    He  was  going  out 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    271 

onto  the  streets  to  watch  the  upflame  of  the  war  spirit 
and  to  make  railway  reservations. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door  and  the  man  opened 
it.  Stiffly  erect,  stood  a  ^quad  of  military  police  and 
stiffly  their  lieutenant  saluted. 

"You  are  Herr  John  Spurrier?"  he  inquired. 

The  man  nodded. 

"It  is,  perhaps,  in  the  nature  of  a  formality,  which 
you  will  be  able  to  arrange,"  said  the  officer.  "But  I 
am  directed  to  place  you  under  arrest.  England  is 
in  the  war.  You  are  said  to  be  a  former  soldier." 


CHAPTER  XX 

OVER  the  ragged  lands  that  lay  on  the  "nigh 
side"  of  Hemlock  Mountain  breathed  a  spirit 
of  excitement  and  mighty  hope.  It  had|  been 
two  years  since  John  Spurrier  had  left  the  field  he  had 
planned  to  develop,  and  in  those  years  had  come  the 
transition  of  rebirth. 

Along  muddy  streets  the  hogs  still  wallowed,  but 
now  they  were  deeply  rutted  by  the  teaming  of  pon- 
derous oil  gear,  and  one  saw  young  men  in  pith  helmets 
and  pig-skin  puttees;  keen-faced  engineers  and  oil 
prospectors  drawn  in  by  the  challenge  of  wealth  from 
the  far  trails  of  Mexico  and  the  West.  One  heard  the 
jargon  of  that  single  business  and  the  new  vocabulary 
of  its  devotees.  "Wild-catters"  following  surface  in- 
dications or  hunches  were  testing  and  well-driving. 
Gushers  rewarded  some  and  "dry  holes"  and  "dusters" 
disappointed  others.  Into  the  mediaeval  life  of  hills 
that  had  stood  age-long  unaltered  and  aloof  came  the 
infusion  of  hot-blooded  enterprise,  the  eager  questing 
after  quick  and  miraculous  wealth. 

In  Lexington  and  Winchester  oil  exchanges  carried 
the  activity  of  small  bourses.  In  newspapers  a  new 
form  of  advertisement  proclaimed  itself, 

Oil  was  king.  Oil  and  its  by-product,  gasoline,  that 
the  armies  needed  and  that  the  thousands  of  engines 
on  the  earth  and  in  the  air  so  greedily  devoured. 

But  over  on  the  far  side  of  the  ridge  men  only 
272 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    273 

fretted  and  chafed  as  yet.  They  had  the  oil  under 
their  feet,  but  for  it  there  was  no  outlet.  Like  a  land 
without  a  seaport,  they  looked  over  at  neighbors  grow- 
ing rich  while  they  themselves  still  "hurted  fer  need- 
cessities." 

American  Oil  and  Gas  had  locked  them  in  while  it 
milked  the  other  cow.  It  had  its  needed  charters  for 
piping  both  fields,  but  a  man  who  was  either  dead  or 
somewhere  across  the  world  held  the  way  barred  in 
a  stalemate  of  controlled  rights  of  way. 

Glory  thought  les.s  about  the  wonderful  things  that 
were  going  forward  than  did  others  about  her,  be- 
cause she  had  a  broken  heart.  No  letters  came  from 
Spurrier,  and  the  faith  that  she  struggled  to  hold  high 
like  a  banner  nailed  to  the  masthead  of  her  life,  hung 
drooping.  In  the  end  her  colors  had  been  struck. 

If  John  Spurrier  returned  in  search  of  her  now 
she  would  go  into  hiding  from  him,  but  it  was  most 
unlikely  that  he  would  return.  He  had  married  hef 
on  impulse  and  under  a  pressure  of  excitement.  He 
had  loved  her  passionately — but  not  with  a  strong 
enough  fidelity  to  hold  him  true — and  now  she  be- 
lieved he  had  turned  back  again  to  his  old  idols.  She 
was  repudiated,  and  she  ought  to  hate  him  with  the 
bitterness  of  her  mountain  blood,  yet  in  her  heart's 
core,  though  she  would  never  forgive  him  and  never 
return  to  him,  she  knew  that  she  still  loved  him  and 
would  always  love  him. 

She  no  longer  feared  that  she  woujd  have  ham- 
pered him  in  the  society  of  his  more  finished  world. 
She  had  visited  Helen  Merriwell  and  had  come  to 
know  that  other  world  for  herself.  She  found  that 
the  gentle  blood  in  her  veins  could  claim  its  own 


274    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

rights  and  respond  graciously.  Hers  had  been  a  sub- 
merged aristocracy,  but  it  had  come  out  of  its 
chrysalis,  bright-winged. 

Then  one  day  something  happened  that  turned 
Glory's  little  personal  world  upside  down  and  brought 
a  readjustment  of  all  its  ideas. 

Sim  Colby  owned  a  little  patch  of  land  beside  his 
homestead  place,  over  cross  the  mountain,  and  he  was 
among  those  who  became  rich.  He  was  not  so  rich 
as  local  repute  declared  him,  but  rich  enough  to  set 
stirring  the  avarice  of  an  erstwhile  friend,  who  owned 
no  land  at  all. 

So  ex-Private  Severance  came  over  to  the  deserter's 
house  with  a  scheme  conceived  in  envy  and  born  of 
greed.  He  was  bent  on  blackmail. 

When  he  first  arrived,  the  talk  ran  along  general 
lines,  because  "Blind  Joe,"  the  fiddler,  was  at  the 
house,  and  the  real  object  of  the  visit  was  confidential. 
Blind  Joe  had  also  been  an  oil  beneficiary,  and  he  and 
Sim  Colby  had  become  partners  in  a  fashion.  During 
that  relationship  Blind  Joe  had  told  Sim  some  things 
that  he  told  few  others. 

But  when  Joe  left  and  the  pipes  were  lighted  Sever- 
ance settled  himself  in  a  back-tilted  chair  and  gazed 
reflectively  at  the  crest  of  the.  timber  line. 

"You  an'  me's  been  partners  for  a  right  long  spell, 
Bud  Grant,  ain't  we?" 

Colby  started.  The  use  of  that  discarded  name 
brought  back  the  past  with  its  ghosts  of  fear.  He 
had  almost  forgotten  that  once  he  had  been  Bud  Grant, 
and  a  deserter  from  the  army.  It  was  all  part  of  a 
bygone  and  walled-in  long  ago.  Though  they  were 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    275 

quite  alone  he  looked  furtively  about  him  and  spoke 
in  a  lowered  voice: 

"Don't  call  me  by  thet  name.  Thar  ain't  no  man 
but  you  knows  erbout — what  I  used  to  be." 

"Thet's  what  I've  been  studyin'  erbout.  Nobody 
else  but  me." 

Severance  sat  silent  for  a  while  after  that  announce- 
ment, but  there  was  a  meaning  smile  on  his  lips,  and 
Colby  paled  a  shade  whiter. 

"I  reckon  I  kin  trust  ye;  I  always  hev,"  he  de- 
clared with  a  specious  confidence. 

Severance  nodded.  "I  was  on  guard  duty  an'  I 
suffered  ye  ter  escape,"  he  went  reminiscently  on.  "I 
knows  thet  ye  kilt  Captain  Comyn,  an'  I've  done  kept 
a  close  mouth  all  these  years.  Now  ye're  a  rich  man 
an'  I'm  a  pore  one.  Hit  looks  like  ter  me  ye  owes 
me  a  debt  an'  ye'd  ought  ter  do  a  leetle  something 
for  me." 

So  that  was  it!  Colby  knew  that  if  he  yielded  at 
all,  this  man's  avarice  and  his  importunities  would 
feed  on  themselves  increasingly  and  endlessly.  Yet 
he  dared  not  refuse,  so  he  sought  to  temporize. 

"I  reckon  thar's  right  smart  jestice  in  what  ye  says," 
he  conceded,  "but  I  don't  know  jest  yit  how  I  stands 
or  how  much  money  I'm  wuth.  Ye'll  have  ter  give 
me  a  leetle  time  ter  find  out." 

But  when  Severance  mounted  his  mule  and  rode 
away,  Sim  Colby  gave  him  only  a  short  start  and 
then  hurried  on  foot  through  the  hill  tangles  by  a  short 
cut  that  would  intercept  his  visitor's  course. 

He  knew  that  Severance  would  have  to  ride  through 
the  same  gorge  in  which  Sim  had  waylaid  Spurrier, 
and  he  meant  to  get  there  first,  rifle-armed. 


276    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

It  was  sunset  when,  quite  unsuspecting  of  danger,  at 
least  for  the  moment,  Severance  turned  his  mule  into 
the  gorge.  He  was  felicitating  himself,  since  without 
an  acre  of  land  or  a  drop  of  oil  he  had  "declared  him- 
self in"  on  another's  wealth.  His  mule  was  a  laggard 
in  pace,  and  the  rider  did  not  urge  him.  He  was  con- 
tent to  amble. 

Back  of  the  rock  walls  of  the  great  cleft,  the  woods 
lay  hushed  and  dense  in  the  closing  shadows.  An  owl 
quavered  softly,  and  the  water  among  the  ferns  whis- 
pered. All  else  was  quiet. 

But  from  just  a  little  way  back,  a  figure  hitched  for- 
ward as  it  lay  belly-down  in  the  "laurel  hell."  It 
sighted  a  rifle  and  pressed  a  finger. 

The  mule  snorted  and  stopped  dead  with  a  flirt  of 
ears  and  tail  and  with  no  word,  without  even  a  groan, 
the  rider  toppled  sidewise  and  slid  from  the  saddle. 

The  man  back  in  the  brush  peered  out.  He  noted 
how  still  the  crumpled  figure  lay  between  the  feet  of 
the  patient,  mouse-colored  beast,  that  switched  at 
flies  with  its  tail.  It  lay  twisted  almost  double  with 
one  arm  bent  beneath  its  chest. 

So  Colby  crept  closer.  It  would  be  as  well  to  haul 
the  body  back  into  the  tangle  where  it  would  not  be 
so  soon  discovered,  and  to  start  the  beast  along  its 
way  with  a  slap  on  the  flank. 

But  just  as  the  assassin  stooped,  Severance's  right 
hand  darted  out  and,  as  it  did  so,  there  was  a  quick 
glint  of  blue  steel,  and  three  instantly  successive 
reports. 

Colby  staggered  backward  with  a  sense  of  betrayal 
and  a  horrible  realization  of  physical  pain.  His  rifle 
dropped  from  a  shattered  hand  and  jets  of  blood  broke 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    277 

out  through  his  rent  clothing.  Each  of  those  three 
pistol  balls  had  taken  effect  at  a  range  so  close  that  he 
had  been  powder-burned.  He  knew  he  was  mortally 
hurt,  and  that  the  other  would  soon  be  dead  if  he 
was  not  so  already. 

Colby  began  crawling.  He  was  mangled  as  if  by 
an  explosion,  but  instinct  drove  him.  Twice  he  fainted 
and  recovered  dim  consciousness  and  still  dragged 
himself  tediously  along. 

Glory  was  alone  in  her  house.  Her  father,  who  had 
been  living  with  her  of  late,  had  gone  to  the  county 
seat  overnight. 

The  young  woman  sat  in  silence,  and  the  sewing 
upon  which  she  had  been  busied  lay  in  her  lap  for- 
gotten. In  her  eyes  was  the  far-away  look  of  one 
who  eats  out  one's  heart  in  thoughts  that  can  neither 
be  solved  nor  banished. 

Then  she  heard  a  faint  call.  It  was  hardly  more 
than  a  gasped  whisper,  and  as  she  rose,  startled,  and 
went  to  the  door  she  saw  striving  to  reach  it  a  shape 
of  terrible  human  wreckage. 

Sim  Colby's  clothes  were  almost  torn  from  him  and 
blood,  dried  brown,  and  blood  freshly  flowing, 
mingled  their  ugly  smears  upon  him.  His  lips  were 
livid  and  his  face  gray. 

Glory  ran  to  him  with  a  horrified  scream.  She  did 
not  yet  recognize  him,  and  he  gasped  out  a  plea  for 
whisky. 

With  the  utmost  effort  of  her  young  strength  she 
got  him  in,  and  managed  to  straighten  out  the  muti- 
lated body  with  pillows  under  its  head. 


278    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

But  after  a  little  the  stimulant  brought  a  slight  re- 
viving, and  he  talked  in  broken  and  disjointed  phrases. 

"Hit  war  Severance,"  he  mumbled.  "I  fought  back 
— I  reckon  I  kilt  him,  too." 

Glory  gazed  in  bewildered  alarm  about  the  house. 
Brother  Bud  Hawkins  was  at  Uncle  Jimmy  Litch- 
field's  place,  and  she  must  get  medical  help,  though  she 
feared  that  the  wounded  man  would  be  dead  before 
her  return. 

When  she  came  back  with  the  preacher,  who  also 
"healed  human  bodies  some,"  Colby  was  still  alive 
but  near  his  passing. 

"Ef  thar's  aught  on  your  conscience,  Sim,"  said 
the  old  preacher  gently,  "hit's  time  ter  make  yore  peace 
with  Almighty  God,  fer  ye're  goin'  ter  stand  afore 
him  in  an  hour  more.  Air  ye  ready  ter  face  Him?" 

The  dying  man  looked  up,  and  above  the  weakness 
and  the  suffering  that  filled  his  eyes,  showed  a  domi- 
nating expression  of  terror.  If  ever  a  human  being 
needed  to  be  shriven  he  thought  it  was  himself. 

They  had  to  bend  close  to  catch  his  feeble  syllables, 
as  he  said:  "Git  paper — write  this  down." 

The  preacher  obeyed,  kneeling  on  the  floor,  and 
though  the  words  were  few,  their  utterance  required 
dragging  minutes,  punctuated  with  breaks  of  silence 
and  gasping. 

"Hit  warn't  John  Spurrier — thet  kilt  Captain 
Comyn  back  tha'r  in  the  Philippines.  ...  I  knows 

who  done  hit "  He  broke  off  there,  and  the  girl 

closed  her  hands  over  her  face.  "I  sought  ter  kill 
Spurrier — but  I  warn't  with  them — thet  attackted  him 
hyar — an'  wounded  ther  woman." 

Once  more  a  long  hiatus  interrupted  the  recital  and 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    279 

then  the  mangled  creature  went  on:     "Hit  was  ther 
oil  folks  thet  deevised  thet  murder  scheme." 

The  preacher  was  busily  writing  the  record  of  this 
death-bed  statement  and  Glory  stood  pale  and  dis- 
traught. 

The  words  "oil  people"  were  ringing  in  her  ears. 
What  connection  could  Spurrier  have  had  with  them: 
what  enmity  could  they  have  had  for  him  ? 

But  out  of  the  confusion  of  her  thoughts  another 
thing  stood  forth  with  the  sudden  glare  of  revelation. 
This  man  might  die  before  he  finished  and  if  he  could 
not  tell  all  he  knew,  he  must  first  tell  that  which  would 
clear  her  husband's  name.  Though  that  husband  had 
turned  his  back  on  her,  her  duty  to  him  in  this  matter 
must  take  precedence  over  the  rest. 

"Joe  Givins — "  began  Colby  once  more  in  laborious 
syllables,  but  peremptorily  the  girl  halted  him. 

"Never  mind  Joe  Givins  just  now,"  she  commanded 
with  as  sharp  a  finality  as  though  to  her  had  been 
delegated  the  responsibility  of  his  judgment.  "You 
said  you  knew  who  killed  Captain  Comyn.  Who 
was  it?" 

The  eyes  in  the  wounded  and  stricken  face  gazed  up 
at  her  in  mute  appeal  as  a  sinner  might  look  at  a 
father  confessor,  pleading  that  he  be  spared  the  bit- 
terest dregs  of  his  admission. 

Glory  read  that  glance  and  her  own  delicate  fea- 
tures hardened.  She  leaned  forward. 

"I  brought  you  in  here  and  succored  you,"  she 
asserted  with  a  sternness  which  she  could  not  have 
commanded  in  her  own  behalf.  "You're  going  before 
Almighty  God — and  unless  you  answer  that  question 


280    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

honestly — no  prayers  shall  go  with  you  for  forgive- 
ness." 

"Glory !"  The  name  broke  in  shocked  horror  from 
the  bearded  lips  of  the  preacher.  "Glory,  the  mercy 
of  God  hain't  ter  be  interfered  with  by  mortals. 
Ther  man's  dying!" 

Upon  him  the  young  woman  wheeled  with  blazing 
eyes. 

"God  calls  on  his  servants  for  justice  to  the  living 
as  well  as  mercy  to  the  dying,"  she  declared.  "Sim 
Colby,  who  killed  Captain  Comyn?" 

"I  done  hit,"  came  the  unwillingly  wrung  confes- 
sion. "My  real  name's  Grant.  .  .  .  Severance  aided 
me.  .  .  .  Thet's  why  I  sought  to  kill  Spurrier.  I 
'deemed  he  war  a  huntin'  me  down." 

"Now,"  ordered  the  young  woman,  "what  about 
Joe  Givins?" 

Again  a  long  pause,  then:  "Blind  Joe  Givins — 
only  he  ain't  no  blinder  than  me — read  papers  hyar — 
he  diskivered  thet  Spurrier  was  atter  oil  rights — he 
tipped  off  ther  oil  folks — he  war  their  spy  all  ther 

time — shammin'  ter  be  blind "  There  the  speaker 

struggled  to  breathe  and  let  his  head  fall  back  with 
the  utterance  incomplete.  Five  minutes  later  he  was 
dead. 

"Hit  don't  seem  ter  me,"  said  Brother  Hawkins  a 
short  time  later,  while  Glory  still  stood  in  dazed  and 
trance-like  wonderment,  "es  ef  what  he  said  kin  be 
true.  Why  ef  hit  be,  John  Spurrier  was  aimin'  ter 
plunder  us  hyar  all  ther  time !  He  was  counselin'  us 
ter  sell  out — an'  he  was  buy  in'.  I  kain't  believe  that." 

But  Glory  had  drawn  back  to  the  wall  of  the  room 
and  into  her  eyes  had  come  a  new  expression.  The 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    281 

expression  of  one  who  must  tear  aside  a  veil  and 
know  the  truth,  and  who  dreads  what  that  truth 
may  be. 

She  had  said  that  justice,  no  less  than  mercy,  was 
God's  command  laid  upon  mortals.  She  had,  almost 
by  the  extremity  of  withholding  from  Colby  his  hope 
of  salvation  until  he  spoke,  won  from  him  the  declara- 
tion which  would  give  back  to  John  Spurrier  an  un- 
smirched  name.  Once  Spurrier  had  said  that  was  his 
strongest  wish  in  life.  But  now  justice  called  again: 
this  time  justice  to  her  own  people  and  perhaps  it 
meant  the  unveiling  of  duplicity  in  the  man  she  had 
married. 

"Brother  Hawkins,"  she  declared  in  a  low  but  fer- 
vent voice,  "if  it's  not  true,  it's  a  slander  that  I  can't 
let  stand.  If  it  is  true,  I  must  undo  the  wrong  he's 
sought  to  do — if  I  can.  Please  wait." 

Then  she  was  tearing  at  the  bit  of  paneling  that 
gave  access  to  the  secret  cabinet,  and  poring  over 
papers  from  a  broken  and  rifled  strong  box. 

There  was  the  uncontrovertible  record,  clear  writ, 
and  at  length  her  pale  face  came  up  resolutely. 

"I  don't  understand  it  all  yet,"  she  told  the  preacher. 
"But  he  was  buying.  He  bought  everything  that's 
been  sold  this  side  the  ridge.  He  was  seeking  to  in- 
fluence the  legislature,  too.  I've  got  to  talk  to  my 
father." 

It  was  the  next  night,  when  old  Dyke  Cappeze  had 
ridden  back  from  the  county  seat,  that  he  sat  under 
the  lamp  in  the  room  where  Sim  Colby  had  died,  and 
on  the  table  before  him  were  spread  the  papers  that 


282    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

had  lain  unread  so  long  in  John  Spurrier's  secret 
cabinet. 

Acrdss  from  him  sat  Glory  with  her  fingers  spas- 
modically clutched  and  her  eyes  riveted  on  his  face  as 
he  read  and  studied  the  documents,  which  at  first  he 
had  been  loath  to  inspect  without  the  permission  of 
their  owner.  He  had  been  convinced,  however,  when 
Glory  had  told  the  story  of  the  dying  confession  and 
had  appealed  to  him  for  counsel. 

"By  what  you  tell  me,"  the  old  lawyer  had  sum- 
marized at  the  end  of  her  recital,  "you  forced  from 
this  man  his  admission  which  cleared  John  Spurrier 
of  the  charge  that's  been  hanging  over  him.  You  set 
out  to  serve  him  and  refused  to  be  turned  aside  when 
Colby  balked.  .  .  .  But  that  confession  didn't  end 
there.  It  went  on  and  besides  clearing  Jack  in  that 
respect  it  seems  to  have  involved  him  in  another  way. 
You  can't  use  a  part  of  a  confession  and  discard  the 
balance.  Perhaps  we  can  serve  him  as  well  as  others 
best  by  going  into  the  whole  of  the  affair." 

So  now  Glory  interrupted  by  no  word  or  question, 
despite  her  anxiety  to  understand  and  her  hoping 
against  hope  for  a  verdict  which  should  leave  John 
Spurrier  clean  of  record. 

But  if  she  refrained  from  breaking  in  on  the  study 
that  engrossed  her  father  and  wrinkled  his  parchment- 
like  forehead,  she  could  not  help  reading  the  expres- 
sion of  his  eyes,  the  growing  sternness  and  indigna- 
tion of  his  stiffening  lips — and  of  drawing  the  moral 
that  when  he  spoke  his  words  must  be  those  of  con- 
demnation. 

The  strident  song  of  the  katydids  came  in  through 
the  windows  and  the  moon  dropped  behind  the  hill 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    283 

crests  before  Dyke  Cappeze  spoke,  and  Brother  Haw- 
kins, who  was  spending  the  night  at  that  house, 
smoked  alone  on  the  porch,  unwilling  to  intrude  on 
the  confidences  that  these  two  might  wish  to  exchange. 

Finally  the  lawyer  folded  the  last  paper  and 
looked  up. 

"Do  you  want  the  whole  truth,  little  gal?"  he  in- 
quired bluntly.  "How  much  do  you  still  love  this 
man?" 

Glory  flushed  then  paled. 

"I  guess,"  she  said  and  her  words  were  very  low 
and  soft,  "I'll  love  him  so  long  as  I  live — though  I 
hate  myself  for  doing  it.  He  wearied  of  me  and 
forgot  me — but  I  can't  do  likewise." 

Then  her  chin  came  up  and  her  voice  rang  with  a 
quiet  finality. 

"But  I  want  the  truth  .  .  .  the  whole  truth  without 
any  softening." 

"Then  as  I  see  it,  it's  simply  this.  A  war  was  on 
between  two  groups  of  financiers.  American  Oil  and 
Gas  had  held  a  monopoly  and  maintained  a  corrupt 
control  in  the  legislature  that  stifled  competition. 
That's  why  the  other  oil  boom  failed.  The  second 
group  was  trying  to  slip  up  on  these  corruptionists 
and  gain  the  control  by  a  campaign  of  surprise.  Jack 
Spurrier  appears  to  have  been  the  ambassador  of  that 
second  group — and  he  seems  to  have  failed." 

The  wife  nodded.  Even  yet  she  unconsciously  held 
a  brief  for  his  defense. 

"So  far  as  you've  gone,"  she  reminded  her  father, 
"you  show  him  to  have  been  what  is  commonly  called 
a  'practical  business  man' — but  no  worse  than  the 
men  he  fought." 


284    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Cappeze  bowed  his  head  gravely  and  his  next  words 
came  reluctantly.  "So  far,  yes.  Of  course  he  could 
have  done  none  of  the  things  he  did  had  he  not  first 
won  the  confidence  of  those  poor  ignorant  folk  that 
are  our  neighbors  and  our  friends.  Of  course  it  was 
because  they  believed  in  him  and  followed  his  counsel 
that  they  sold  their  birth-rights  to  men  with  whom  he 
pretended  to  have  no  connection — and  yet  who  took 
their  orders  from  him." 

"Then,"  Glory  started,  halted  and  leaned  forward 
with  her  hands  against  her  breast  and  her  utterance 
was  the  monotone  of  a  voice  forced  to  a  hard  ques- 
tion: "Then  what  I  feared  was  true?  He  lived 
among  us  and  made  friends  of  us — only  to  rob  us?" 

"If  by  'us'  you  mean  the  mountain  people,  I  fear 
me  thkt's  precisely  what  he  did.  I  can  see  no  other 
explanation.  Which  ever  of  these  two  groups  won 
meant  to  exploit  and  plunder  us." 

For  a  little  she  made  no  answer,  but  the  delicate 
color  of  her  cheeks  was  gone  to  an  ivory  whiteness 
and  the  violet  eyes  were  hardening. 

"Perhaps  we  oughtn't  to  judge  him  too  harshly 
for  these  things,"  said  the  father  comfortingly.  "The 
scroll  of  my  bitterness  against  him  is  already  heavy 
enough  and  to  spare.  He  has  broken  your  heart  and 
that's  enough  for  me.  As  to  the  rest  there  are  many 
so-called  honorable  gentlemen  who  are  no  more  scru- 
pulous. We  demand  clean  conduct  here  in  these 
hills,"  a  fierce  bitterness  came  into  his  words,  "but 
then  we  are  ignorant,  backwoods  folk!  There  are 
many  intricate  ins  and  outs  to  this  business  and  I  don't 
presume  to  speak  with  absolute  conclusiveness  yet." 

Outside  the  katydids  sang  their  prophecies  of  frost 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    285 

to  come  and  an  owl  hooted.  Glory  Spurrier  sat  star- 
ing ahead  of  her  and  at  last  she  said  aloud,  in  that 
tone  which  one  uses  when  a  thought  finds  expression, 
unconscious  that  it  has  been  vocal:  "So  he  won  our 
faith — with  his  clear  eyes  and  his  honest  smile — only 
to  swindle  and  rob  us !" 

"My  God,  if  I  were  a  younger  man,"  broke  out  the 
father  passionately,  rising  from  his  chair  and  clench- 
ing the  damaging  papers  in  his  talon-like  fingers,  "I'd 
learn  the  oil  game.  I'd  take  this  information  and  use 
it  against  both  their  gangs — and  I  believe  I  could 
force  them  both  to  their  knees." 

He  paused  and  the  momentary  fire  died  out  of  his 
eyes. 

"I'm  too  old  a  dog  for  new  tricks  though,"  he  added 
dejectedly,  "and  there's  no  one  else  to  do  it." 

"How  could  it  be  done?"  demanded  Glory  rous- 
ing herself  from  her  trance.  "Between  them  they 
hold  all  the  power,  don't  they?" 

"As  far  as  I  can  make  out,"  Cappeze  explained 
with  the  interest  of  the  legalistic  mind  for  tackling 
an  abstruse  problem,  "Spurrier  had  completed  his 
arch  as  to  one  of  his  two  purposes — all  except  its 
keystone.  He  had  yet  to  gain  a  passage  way  through 
Brother  Hawkins'  land.  With  that  he  would  have 
held  the  completed  right-of-way — and  it's  the  only 
one.  The  other  gang  of  pirates  hold  the  ability  to  get 
a  charter  but  no  right  of  way  over  which  to  use  it. 
Now  the  man  who  could  deliver  Brother  Hawkins' 
concession  would  have  a  key.  He  could  force  Spur- 
rier's crowd  to  agree  to  almost  anything,  and  with 
Spurrier's  crowd  he  could  wring  a  compromise  from 
the  others.  Bud  Hawkins  is  like  the  delegate  at  a  con- 


286    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

vention  who  can  break  a  deadlock.  God  knows  I'd 
love  to  tackle  it — but  it's  too  late  for  me." 

Glory  had  come  to  her  feet,  and  stood  an  incarna- 
tion of  combat. 

"It's  not  too  late  for  me,"  she  said  quietly.  "Per- 
haps I'm  too  crude  to  go  into  John  Spurrier's  world 
of  cultivated  people  but  I'm  shrewd  enough  to  go 
into  his  world  of  business!" 

"You!"  exclaimed  the  father  in  astonishment,  then 
after  a  moment  an  eager  light  slowly  dawned  in  his 
eyes  and  he  broke  out  vehemently:  "By  God  in 
Heaven,  girl,  I  believe  you're  the  man  for  the  job!" 

"Call  Brother  Hawkins  in,"  commanded  Glory. 
"We  need  his  help." 

Before  he  reached  the  door  old  Cappeze  turned  on 
his  heel. 

"Glory,"  he  said,  "we've  need  to  move  out  of  this 
house  and  go  back  to  my  place.  Here  we're  dwelling 
under  a  dishonest  roof." 

"I'm  going  to  leave  it,"  she  responded  quickly,  "but 
I'm  going  farther  away  than  that.  I'm  going  to  study 
oil  and  I'm  going  to  do  it  in  the  Btuegrass  lowlands." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

JOHN  SPURRIER  stepped  from  the  train  at  Car- 
nettsville  into  a  life  that  had  been  revolutionized. 
At  last  he  had  succeeded  in  leaving  his  German 
exile.    His  own  country  was  in  the  war  but  he,  with  the 
equipment  of  a  soldier,  bore  a  dishonored  name,  which 
would  bar  him  from  a  commission.     Here  he  found 
the  development  of  his  dreams  realized,  but  by  other 
hands  than  his  own. 

Above  all,  he  must  see  Glory.  He  had  cabled  her 
and  written  her,  so  she  would  be  expecting  him.  Now 
he  gazed  about  streets  through  which  teemed  the  new 
activity. 

Here  was  the  thing  he  had  seen  in  his  dreams  when 
he  stood  on  wooded  hills  and  thought  in  the  terms 
of  the  future.  Here  it  stood  vivid  and  actual  before 
the  eyes  that  had  visioned  it. 

With  a  groan  he  turned  into  the  road  homeward  on 
a  hired  horse.  He  still  meant  to  fight,  and  unless  the 
Bud  Hawkins  property  had  escaped  him,  he  would 
still  have  to  be  accounted  with — but  great  prizes  had 
slipped  away. 

At  the  gate  of  his  house,  his  heart  rose  into  his 
throat.  The  power  of  his  emotion  almost  stifled  him. 
Never  had  his  love  for  Glory  flickered.  Never  had  he 
thought  or  dreamed  of  anything  else  or  any  one  else 
so  dearly  and  so  constantly  as  of  her. 

He  stood  at  the  fence  with  half -closed  eyes  for  a. 
287 


288    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

moment,  steadying  himself  against  the  surges  of  up- 
welling  emotion,  then,  raising  his  eyes,  he  saw  that 
the  windows  and  the  door  were  nailed  up.  The  chim- 
ney stood  dead  and  smokeless. 

Panic  clutched  at  his  throat  as  with  a  physical  grasp. 
Before  him  trooped  a  hundred  associations  unac- 
countably dear.  They  were  all  memories  of  little 
things,  mostly  foolish  little  things  that  went  into  the 
sacred  intimacy  of  his  life  with  Glory. 

Now  there  was  no  Glory  there. 

He  rode  at  the  best  speed  left  in  his  tired  horse  over 
to  old  Cappeze's  house,  and,  as  he  dismounted,  saw 
the  lawyer,  greatly  aged  and  broken,  standing  in  the 
door. 

One  glance  at  that  face  confirmed  all  the  fears  with 
which  he  had  been  battling.  It  was  a  face  as  stern  as 
those  on  the  frieze  of  the  prophets.  In  it  there  was 
no  ghost  of  the  old  welcome,  no  hope  of  any  relent- 
ing. This  old  man  saw  in  him  an  enemy. 

"Where  is  Glory?"  demanded  Spurrier  as  he  hur- 
ried up  to  the  doorstep,  and  the  other  looked  accus- 
ingly back  into  his  eyes  and  answered  in  cold  and  bit- 
terly clipped  syllables. 

"Wherever  she  is,  sir,  it's  her  wish  to  be  there 
alone."  Suddenly  the  old  eyes  flamed  and  the  old 
voice  rose  thin  and  passionate.  "If  I  burned  in  hell 
for  it  to  the  end  of  eternity,  I  would  give  you  no 
other  word  of  her." 

"She — she  is  not  dead,  then?" 

"No — but  dead  to  you." 

"Mr.  Cappeze,"  said  Spurrier  steadily,  "are  you 
sure  that  I  may  not  have  explanations  that  may  change 
her  view  of  me?" 


;THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    289 

"We  know,"  said  the  lawyer  in  a  voice  out  of  which 
the  passion  had  passed,  but  which  had  the  dead  qual- 
ity of  an  opinion  inflexibly  solidified,  "that  since 
your  marriage,  you  never  made  her  the  companion  of 
any  hour  that  was  not  a  backwoods  hour.  We  know 
that  you  never  told  us  the  truth  about  yourself  or  your 
enterprises — that  you  came  to  us  as  a  friend,  won  our 
confidence,  and  sought  to  exploit  us.  Your  record  is 
one  of  lies  and  unfaithfulness,  and  we  have  cast  you 
out.  That  is  her  decision  and  with  me  her  wish  is 
sacred." 

The  returned  exile  stood  meeting  the  relentless  eyes 
of  the  old  man  who  had  been  his  first  friend  in  these 
hills  and  for  a  few  moments  he  did  not  trust  himself 
to  speak. 

The  shock  of  those  shuttered  windows  and  that 
blankly  staring  front  at  the  house  where  he  had  looked 
for  welcome ;  the  collapse  of  all  the  dreams  that 
had  sustained  him  while  a  prisoner  in  an  internment 
camp  and  a  refugee  hounded  across  the  German  bor- 
der were  visiting  upon  him  a  prostration  that  left  him 
trembling  and  shaken. 

Finally  he  commanded  his  voice. 

"To  me,  too,  her  wish  is  sacred — but  not  until  I  hear 
it  from  her  own  lips.  She  alone  has  the  right  to 
condemn  me  and  not  even  she  until  I  have  made  my 
plea  to  her.  Great  God,  man,  my  silence  hasn't  been 
voluntary.  I've  been  cut  off  in  a  Hun  prison-camp. 
I've  kept  life  in  me  only  because  I  could  dream  of  her 
and  because  though  it  was  easier  to  die,  I  couldn't  die 
without  seeing  her  and  explaining." 

"It  was  from  her  own  lips  that  I  took  my  orders," 
came  the  unmoved  response.  "Those  orders  were 


290    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

that  through  me  you  should  learn  nothing.  You  had 
the  friendship  of  every  man  here  until  you  abused  it 
— now  I  think  you'll  encounter  no  sympathy.  I  told 
you  once  how  the  wolfbitch  would  feel  toward  the 
man  who  robbed  her  of  her  young.  You  chose  to  dis- 
regard my  warning — and  I'll  ask  you  to  leave  my 
house." 

John  Spurrier  bowed  his  head.  He  had  lost  her! 
If  that  were  her  final  conclusion,  he  could  hardly  seek 
to  dissuade  her.  At  least  he  could  lose  the  final  happi- 
ness out  of  his  life — from  which  so  much  else  had  al- 
ready been  lost — as  a  gentleman  should  lose. 

And  he  knew  that  however  old  Cappeze  might  feel, 
he  would  not  lie.  If  he  said  that  was  Glory's  deliber- 
ately formed  decision,  that  statement  must  be  accepted 
as  true. 

"I  have  never  loved  any  one  else,"  said  Spurrier 
slowly.  "I  shall  never  love  any  one  else.  I  have  been 
faithful  despite  appearances.  The  rest  of  your  charges 
are  true,  and  I  make  no  denial.  I  gambled  about  as 
fairly  as  most  men  gamble.  That  is  all." 

A  stiffening  pride,  made  flinty  by  the  old  man's  hos- 
tility, shut  into  silence  some  things  that  Spurrier 
might  have  said.  He  scorned  the  seeming  of  whine 
that  might  have  lain  in  explanations,  even  though  the 
explanations  should  lighten  the  shadow  of  his  old 
friend's  disapproval.  He  offered  no  extenuation  and 
breathed  nothing  of  the  changes  that  had  been 
wrought  in  himself  by  the  tedious  alchemy  of  time  and 
reflection. 

He  had  begun  under  the  spur  of  greedy  ambition, 
but  changes  had  been  wrought  in  him  by  Glory's  love. 

He  was  still  ambitious,  but  in  a  different  way.    He 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    291 

wanted  to  salvage  something  for  the  equitable  benefi- 
ciaries. He  wanted  to  stand,  not  among  the  preda- 
tory millionaires,  but  to  be  his  own  man,  with  a  clean 
name  and  solvent. 

Before  he  could  attain  that  condition  he  must  ren- 
der unto  Harrison  the  things  that  were  Harrison's 
and  wipe  out  his  own  tremendous  liabilities — but  his 
heart  was  in  the  hills. 

John  Spurrier  went  slowly  and  heavy  heartedly 
back  to  the  house  which  he  had  refashioned  for  his 
bride;  the  house  that  had  become  to  him  a  shrine  to 
all  the  dear,  lost  things  of  life. 

The  sun  fell  in  mottled  luminousness  across  its 
face  of  tempered  gray  and  from  the  orchard  where 
the  lush  grass  grew  knee-high  came  the  cheery  whistle 
of  a  Bob- white. 

At  the  sound  the  man  groaned  with  a  wrench  of  his 
heart  and  throat,  and  his  thoughts  raced  back  to  that 
day  when  the  same  note  had  come  from  the  voices  of 
hidden  assassins  and  when  Glory  had  exposed  her 
breast  to  rifle-fire  to  send  out  the  pigeon  with  its  call 
for  help. 

The  splendid  oak  that  had  shaded  their  stile  had 
grown  broader  of  girth  and  more  majestic  in  the 
spread  of  its  head-growth  since  he  had  stood 
here  before,  and  in  the  flower  beds,  in  which  Glory 
had  delighted,  a  few  forlorn  survivors,  sprung  up  as 
volunteers  from  neglected  roots,  struggled  through  a 
choke  of  dusty  weeds. 

The  man  looked  about  the  empty  yard  and  his 
breath  came  like  that  of  a  torture  victim  on  the  rack. 
The  desolation  and  ache  of  a  life  deprived  of  all  that 


292    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

made  it  sweet  struck  in  upon  him  with  a  blight  beside 
which  his  prison  loneliness  had  been  nothing. 

"If  she  knew  the  whole  truth — instead  of  only  half 
the  truth,"  he  groaned,  "she  might  forgive  me." 

He  ripped  the  padlock  from  the  door  and  let  him- 
self in.  He  flung  wide  a  shutter  and  let  the  afternoon 
sun  flood  the  room,  and  once  inside  a  score  of  little 
things  worked  the  magic  of  memory  upon  him  and 
tore  afresh  every  wound  that  was  festering. 

There  hung  the  landscapes  that  he  and  she  had 
loved  and  as  he  looked  at  them  her  voice  seemed  to 
sound  again  in  his  ears  like  forgotten  music.  From 
somewhere  came  the  heavy  fragrance  of  honeysuckle 
and  old  nights  with  her  in  the  moonlight  rushed  back 
upon  him. 

Then  he  saw  an  apron  on  a  peg — hanging  limp  and 
empty,  and  again  he  saw  her  in  it.  He  went  and 
opened  a  drawer  in  which  his  own  clothes  had  been 
kept — and  there  neatly  folded  by  her  hand  were  things 
of  his. 

John  Spurrier,  whose  iron  nerve  had  once  been  cafe 
talk  in  the  Orient,  sat  down  on  a  quilted  bed  and  tear- 
less sobs  racked  him. 

"No,"  he  said  to  himself  at  last.  "No,  if  she  wants 
her  freedom  I  can't  pursue  her.  I've  hurt  her  enough 
— and  God  knows  I'm  punished  enough." 

Unless  he  were  tamely  to  surrender  to  the  despair 
that  beset  him,  John  Spurrier  had  one  other  thing  to 
do  before  he  left  the  hills.  He  must  come  to  such  an 
agreement  with  Bud  Hawkins  as  would  give  him  a 
right  of  way  over  that  single  tract  and  complete  his 
chain  of  holdings.  Thus  fortified  the  field  beyond 
the  ridge  would  be  safe  against  invasion  by  his  ene- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK;  MOUNTAIN    293 

mies  and  even  the  other  field  would  have  readier  out- 
let to  market  by  that  route.  In  the  Hawkins  property 
lay  the  keystone  of  the  arch.  With  it  the  position  was 
impregnable.  Without  it  all  the  rest  fell  apart  like  an 
inarticulated  skeleton. 

It  happened  that  Spurrier  met  Hawkins  as  he  went 
away  from  his  lonely  house,  and  forcing  his  own  mis- 
eries into  the  background,  he  sought  to  become  the 
business  man  once  more.  He  began  with  a  frank 
statement  of  the  facts  and  offered  fair  and  substan- 
tial terms  of  trade. 

Both  because  his  affection  for  the  old  preacher 
would  have  tolerated  nothing  less  and  because  it  would 
have  been  folly  now  to  play  the  cheaper  game,  he 
spoke  in  the  terms  of  generosity. 

But  to  his  surprise  and  discomfiture,  Brother  Haw- 
kins shook  a  stubborn  head. 

"Thar  ain't  skeercely  no  power  on  'arth,  Mr.  Spur- 
rier," he  declared,  "thet  could  fo'ce  me  inter  doin'  no 
business  with  ye." 

"But,  Brother  Hawkins,"  argued  the  opportunity 
hound,  "you  are  cutting  your  own  throat.  You  and  I 
standing  together  are  invincible.  Separate,  we  are 
lost.  I'm  almost  willing  to  let  you  name  the  terms  of 
agreement — to  write  the  contract  for  yourself." 

"I've  done  been  pore  a  right  long  while  already," 
the  preacher  reminded  him  as  his  eyes  kindled  with 
the  zealot's  fire.  "Long  afore  my  day  Jesus  Christ 
was  pore  an'  ther  Apostle  Paul,  an'  other  righteous 
men.  I  ain't  skeered  ter  go  on  in  likewise  ter  what 
I've  always  done."  He  paused  and  laid  a  kindly  hand 
on  the  shoulder  of  the  man  who  offered  him  wealth. 

"I  ain't  seekin'  ter  fault  ye  unduly,  John  Spurrier. 


294    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Mebby  ye've  done  follered  yore  lights — but  we  don't 
see  with  no  common  eye,  ner  no  mutual  disc'arnment. 
Ye've  done  misled  folk  thet  swore  by  ye,  ef  I  sees  hit 
a' right.  Now  ye  offers  me  wealth,  much  ther  same  as 
Satan  offered  hit  ter  Jesus  on  a  high  place,  an'  we 
kain't  trade — no  more  then  what  they  could  trade." 

The  old  preacher's  attitude  held  the  trace  of  kindli- 
ness that  sought  to  drape  reproof  in  gentleness  and  to 
him,  as  had  been  impossible  with  Cappeze,  Spurrier 
poured  out  his  confidence.  At  the  outset,  he  con- 
fessed, he  had  deliberately  dedicated  himself  to  the 
development  of  wealth  for  himself  and  his  employers, 
with  no  thought  of  others.  Later,  in  a  fight  between 
wary  capitalists  where  vigilance  had  to  be  met  with 
vigilance,  the  seal  of  secrecy  had  been  imperative. 
Frankness  with  the  mountain  men  would  have  been  a 
warning  to  his  enemies.  Now,  however,  his  sense  of 
responsibility  was  awake.  Now  he  wanted  to  win 
back  his  status  of  confidence  in  this  land  where  he 
had  known  his  only  home.  Now  what  weight  he  had 
left  to  throw  into  the  scales  would  be  righteously 
thrown.  Even  yet  he  must  move  with  strict,  guarded 
secrecy. 

But  the  old  circuit  rider  shook  his  head. 

"Hit's  too  late,  now,  ter  rouse  faith  in  me,  John," 
he  reiterated.  "Albeit  I'd  love  ter  credit  ye,  ef  so-be 
I  could.  What's  come  ter  pass  kain't  be  washed  out 
with  words."  He  paused  before  he  added  the  sim- 
ple edict  against  which  there  was  no  arguing. 

"Mebby  I  mout  stand  convinced  even  yit  ef  I  didn't 
know  thet  ther  devil  was  urgin'  me  on  with  prospects 
of  riches." 

One  thing  remained  to  him:  the  pride  that  should 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    295 

stiffen  him  in  the  presence  of  his  accusers  and  judges. 
When  he  went  into  the  eclipse  of  ruin,  at  least  he 
would  go  with  unflinching  gallantry. 

And  it  was  in  that  mood  that  Spurrier  reached  his 
club  in  New  York  and  prepared  himself  for  the  ordeal 
of  the  next  day's  interview. 

He  had  wired  Harrison  of  his  coming,  but  not  of 
his  hopelessness,  and  when  his  telephone  jangled  and 
he  heard  the  voice  of  the  financier,  he  recognized  in  it 
an  undercurrent  of  exasperation,  which  carried  omen 
of  a  difficult  interview. 

"That  you,  Spurrier?  This  is  Harrison.  Be  at  my 
office  at  eleven  to-morrow  morning.  Perhaps  you  can 
construe  certain  riddles." 

"Of  what  nature,  sir?" 

"Of  a  nature  that  won't  bear  full  discussion  over 
the  wire.  We  have  had  an  anonymous  letter  from 
some  mysterious  person  who  claims  to  come  with  the 
situation  in  a  sling.  It  may  be  a  crank  whom  we'll 
have  to  throw  out — or  some  one  we  dare  not  ignore. 
At  all  events,  it's  up  to  you  to  dispose  of  him.  He's  in 
your  province.  If  you  fail,  we  lose  out  and,  as  I 
said  once  before,  you  go  to  the  scrap  heap." 

Spurrier  hung  up  the  phone  and  sat  in  a  nerveless 
trepidation  which  was  new  and  foreign  to  his  nature. 
This  interview  of  to-morrow  morning  would  call  for 
the  tallest  bluffing  he  had  ever  attempted,  and  the 
chances  would,  perhaps,  turn  on  hair-trigger  elements 
of  personal  force. 

He  must  depend  on  his  coolness,  audacity,  and 
adroitness  to  win  a  decision,  and,  except  by  guesswork, 
he  could  not  hope  to  formulate  in  advance  the  terrain 


296    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

of  battle  or  the  nature  of  counter-attack  with  which 
he  must  meet  his  adversary. 

That  evening  he  strolled  along  Broadway  and  found 
himself  yielding  to  a  dangerous  and  whimsical  mood. 
He  wondered  how  many  other  men  outwardly  as  self- 
assured  and  prosperous  as  himself  were  covertly  con- 
fessing suicide  as  one  of  to-morrow's  probabilities. 

Over  Longacre  Square  the  incandescent  billboards 
flamed  and  flared.  The  darning-wool  kitten  disported 
itself  with  mechanical  abandon.  The  woman  who 
advertised  a  well-known  corset  and  the  man  who  ex- 
ploited a  brand  of  underwear  brilliantly  made  and 
unmade  their  toilets  far  above  the  sidewalk  level. 
Motors  shrieked  and  droned  and  crowds  drifted. 

Before  a  moving-picture  theater,  his  introspective 
eye  was  momentarily  challenged  by  a  gaudy  three- 
sheet.  The  poster  proclaimed  a  popular  screen  star 
in  a  "fight  fuller  of  punch  than  that  of  'The  Wreck- 
ers.' " 

What  caused  Spurrier  to  pause  was  the  composi- 
tion of  the  picture — and  the  mental  comparison  which 
it  evoked.  A  man  crouched  behind  a  heavy  table, 
overthrown  for  a  barricade — as  he  had  once  done. 

Fallen  enemies  lay  on  the  floor  of  a  crude  Western 
cabin.  Others  still  stood,  and  fought  with  flashing 
guns  and  faces  "registering"  desperation,  frenzy,  and 
maniac  fury.  The  hero  only,  though  alone  and  out- 
numbered, was  grimly  calm.  The  stress  of  that  in- 
ferno had  not  interfered  with  the  theatric  pose  of  head 
and  shoulders — the  grace  and  effect  of  gesture  that 
was  conveyed  in  the  two  hands  wielding  two  smoking 
pistols. 

Spurrier  smiled.    It  occurred  to  him  that  had  a  di- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    297 

rector  stood  by  while  he  himself  had  knelt  behind  a 
table  he  would  have  bawled  out  many  amendments 
which  fact  had  overlooked.  Apparently  he  and  his 
attackers  had,  by  these  exacting  standards  of  art, 
missed  the  drama  of  the  situation. 

Over  him  swept  a  fresh  flood  of  memory,  and  it 
brought  a  cold  and  nervous  dampness  to  his  temples. 
Again  he  saw  Glory  rising  at  the  broken  window  with 
a  pigeon  to  release — and  a  life  to  sacrifice,  if  need  be. 
On  her  face  had  been  no  theatric  expression  which 
would  have  warranted  a  close-up. 

Spurrier  hastened  on,  turning  into  a  side  street 
where  he  could  put  the  glare  at  his  back  and  find  a 
more  mercifully  dark  way. 

He  was  seeing,  instead  of  dark  house  fronts,  the 
tops  of  pine  trees  etched  against  an  afterglow,  and 
Glory  standing  silhouetted  against  a  hilltop.  Above 
the  grind  of  the  elevated  and  the  traffic,  he  was  hear- 
ing her  voice  in  thrushlike  song,  happy  because  he 
loved  her. 

The  agony  of  loss  overwhelmed  him,  and  he  actu- 
ally longed,  as  for  a  better  thing,  for  that  moment  to 
come  back  when  behind  an  overturned  table  he  had 
endured  the  suspense  which  death  had  promised  to  end 
in  an  instant  filled  and  paid  for  with  revenge. 

Then  through  his  disturbed  brain  once  more  flashed 
lines  of  verse: 

"I  was  ever  a  fighter,  so — one  fight  more, 

The  best  and  the  last ! 

I  should  hate  that  Death  bandaged  my  eyes  and  forebore, 
And  bade  me  creep  past." 

At  all  events  he  would,  in  the  figurative  sense,  die 
fighting  to-morrow.  He  knew  his  mistakes  now.  If 


298    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

he  lived  on  he  hoped  to  atone  for  them,  but  if  he  died 
he  would  go  out  without  a  whine. 

And  if  he  must  die,  there  was  one  way  that  seemed 
preferable  to  others.  The  army  would  have  none  of 
him,  as  an  officer,  because  he  stood  besmirched  of 
honor.  But  he  knew  the  stern  temper  of  the  moun- 
taineers. They  would  rise  in  unanimous  response  to 
the  call  of  arms.  He  could  go  with  them,  not  with 
any  insignia  on  his  collar,  but  marching  shoulder 
against  shoulder  into  that  red  hell  of  Flanders  and 
France,  where  a  man  might  baptize  himself,  shrive 
himself,  and  die.  And  in  dying  they  would  leave  a 
record  behind  them! 


CHAPTER  XXII 

DOWN  along  the  creekbeds  back  of  Hemlock 
Mountain  young  Jimmy  Litchfield,  a  son  of 
old  Uncle  Jimmy,  had  been  teaming  with  a 
well-boring  outfit  and  his  wagon  had  bogged  down 
in  deep  mud.  He  had  failed  to  extricate  himself  so 
he  tramped  three  hard,  steep  miles  and  telephoned  for 
an  extra  team.  While  he  awaited  deliverance  he 
found  himself  irked  and,  to  while  away  the  time,  set 
his  drill  down  haphazard  and  began  to  bore. 

It  would  be  some  hours  before  help  arrived,  and 
when  he  had  worked  a  while  he  had  forgotten  all 
about  help. 

His  drill  had  struck  through  soft  gravel  to  an  oil 
pool  lying  close  to  the  surface,  and  the  black  tide 
gushed  crazily. 

Young  Jimmy  sat  back  watching  the  dark  jet  that 
he  had  no  means  of  stemming  or  containing,  and 
through  his  simple  soul  flowed  all  the  intoxication  of 
triumph. 

He  was  the  discoverer  of  a  new — and  palpably  a 
rich  field! 

Hereafter  oil  men  would  speak  of  the  Snake  Creek 
field  as  copper  men  spoke  of  Anaconda  or  gold  men 
of  the  Yukon. 

And  that  night  word  went  by  wire  to  the  oppor- 
299 


300    THE' LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

tunity  hound  who  had  just  gone  east,  that  the  "fur" 
side  was  to  the  "nigh"  side  as  gold  is  to  silver. 

"What  do  you  make  of  it?"  demanded  Harrison, 
when  Spurrier,  secure  in  his  seeming  of  undaunted 
assurance,  arrived  at  his  office  and  the  response  came 
smilingly:  "I  think  it  means  a  bluff." 

"Read  that,"  snapped  the  financier  as  he  flung  a  let- 
ter across  his  desk. 

Spurrier  took  the  sheet  of  paper  and  read  in  a  hand, 
evidently  disguised! 

You  find  yourself  in  a  cul-de-sac.  I  hold  the  key  to  a 
way  out.  My  terms  are  definite  and  determined  in  advance. 
I  shall  be  at  your  office  at  noon,  Tuesday.  We  will  do  busi- 
ness at  that  time,  or  not  at  all. 

"I  repeat,"  said  Spurrier,  "that  this  seems  to  me  a 
brass-bound  bluff.  I  make  only  the  request  that  I  be 
permitted  to  talk  with  this  brigand  alone;  to  sound 
him  out  with  no  interference  and  to  shape  my  policy 
by  the  circumstances.  I'm  not  at  all  frightened." 

Harrison  answered  snappily: 

"I  agree  to  that — but  if  you  fail  you  fail  finally." 

So  on  Tuesday  forenoon  Spurrier  sat  cross-legged 
in  Harrison's  office  and  their  discussion  had  come  to 
its  end.  Now,  he  had  only  to  await  the  unknown 
person  who  was  to  arrive  at  noon  bearing  alleged 
terms,  a  person  who  claimed  to  be  armed  for  battle 
if  battle  were  needed. 

At  Harrison's  left  and  right  sat  his  favored  lieut- 
enants, but  Spurrier  himself  occupied  a  chair  a  little 
bit  apart,  relegated  to  a  zone  of  probation. 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    301 

Then  a  rap  sounded  on  the  door,  and  Spurrier 
smiled  with  a  ghost  of  triumph  as  he  noted  that  he 
alone  of  the  small  group  did  not  start  at  the  signal. 
For  all  their  great  caliber  and  standing,  these  men 
were  keyed  to  expectancy  and  exasperated  nervous- 
ness. 

The  clerk  who  appeared  made  his  announcement 
with  the  calculated  evenness  of  routine:  "A  lady  is 
waiting.  She  says  her  name  doesn't  matter.  She  has 
an  appointment  for  twelve." 

"A  lady !"  exclaimed  Harrison  in  amazement.  "My 
God,  do  we  have  to  fight  this  thing  out  with  a 
woman  ?" 

The  tableau  of  astonishment  held,  until  Spurrier 
broke  it: 

"What  matter  personalties  to  us?"  he  blandly  in- 
quired. "We  are  interested  in  facts." 

The  chief  lifted  his  hand  and  gave  curt  direction. 
"Show  her  in." 

Then  through  the  door  came  a  woman  whose  beauty 
would  have  arrested  attention  in  any  gathering.  Just 
now  what  these  men,  rising  grudgingly  from  their 
chairs,  noted  first,  was  the  self-possession,  the  poise, 
and  the  convincing  evidence  of  good  breeding  and 
competency  which  characterized  her. 

She  was  elegantly  but  plainly  dressed,  and  her  man- 
ner conveyed  a  self-assurance  in  nowise  flustered  by 
the  prospect  of  impending  storm. 

No  one  there,  save  Spurrier,  recognized  her,  for  to 
Martin  Harrison  carrying  the  one  disapproving  im- 
pression of  a  mountain  girl  in  patched  gingham,  the 
transformation  was  complete. 

And  as  for  Spurrier  himself,  after  coming  to  his 


302    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

feet,  he  stood  as  a  man  might  be  expected  to  stand  if 
a  specter  of  death  had  suddenly  materialized  before 
him. 

For  the  one  time  in  his  life  all  the  assumption  of 
boldness,  worn  for  other  eyes,  broke  and  fell  away 
from  him,  leaving  him  nakedly  and  starkly  dumb- 
founded. He  presented  the  pale  and  distressed  as- 
pect of  a  whipped  prize  fighter,  reeling  groggily 
against  the  ropes,  and  defenseless  against  attack. 

It  was  a  swift  transformation  from  audacious 
boldness  to  something  which  seemed  abject,  or  that 
at  least  was  the  aspect  which  presented  itself  to  Mar- 
tin Harrison  and  his  aides,  but  back  of  it  all  lay  rea- 
sons into  which  they  could  not  see. 

It  was  no  crumbling  and  softening  of  battle  metal 
that  had  wrought  this  astonishing  metamorphosis  but 
a  thing  much  nearer  to  the  man's  heart.  At  that  mo- 
ment there  departed  from  his  mind  the  whole  urgent 
call  of  the  duel  between  business  enemies — and  he 
saw  only  the  woman  for  whom  he  had  sought  and 
whom  he  had  not  found. 

In  the  cumulative  force  and  impact  of  their  heart- 
breaking sequence  there  rushed  back  on  him  all  the 
memories  that  had  been  haunting  him,  intensified  to 
unspeakable  degree  at  the  sight  of  her  face — and  if 
he  thought  of  the  business  awaiting  them  at  all,  it  was 
only  with  a  stabbing  pain  of  realization  that  he  had 
met  Glory  again  only  in  the  guise  of  an  enemy. 

Harrison  gave  him  one  contemptuous  glance  and 
remarked  brutally: 

"Madam,  this  gentleman  was  to  talk  with  you,  but 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    303 

he  seems  scarcely  able  to  conduct  any  affair  of  mo- 
ment." 

Glory  was  looking  at  the  broken  man,  too,  and  into 
her  splendid  eyes  stole  a  pity  that  had  tenderness  back 
of  it. 

Old  memories  came  in  potent  waves,  and  she  closed 
her  lids  for  a  moment  as  though  against  a  painful 
glare,  but  with  quick  recovery  she  spoke. 

"It  is  imperative,  gentlemen,  that  I  have  a  few 
words  first — and  alone — with  Mr.  Spurrier." 

"If  you  insist,  but "  Harrison's  shoulders  stiff- 
ened. "But  we  do  not  guarantee  that  we  shall  abide 
by  his  declarations." 

"I  do  insist — and  I  think  you  will  find  that  jt  is  I 
who  am  in  the  position  to  dictate  terms." 

Harrison  gave  a  sharply  imperative  gesture  toward 
the  door  through  which  the  others  filed  out,  followed 
by  the  chief  himself,  leaving  the  two  alone. 

Then  John  Spurrier  rose,  and  supported  himself  by 
hands  pressed  upon  the  table  top.  He  stood  unstead- 
ily at  first  and  failed  in  his  effort  to  speak.  Then, 
with  difficulty,  he  straightened  and  swept  his  two 
hands  out  in  a  gesture  of  surrender. 

"I'm  through,"  he  said.  "I  thought  there  was  still 
one  fight  left  in  me — but  I  can't  fight  you." 

She  did  not  answer  and,  after  a  little,  with  a  slight 
regaining  of  his  self-command,  he  went  on  again: 

"Glory!  What  a  name  and  what  a  fulfillment! 
You  have  always  been  Glory  to  me." 

Out  of  his  eyes  slowly  went  the  apathy  of  despair 
and  another  look  of  even  stronger  feeling  preempted 
its  place:  a  look  of  worship  and  adoration. 


304    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

"I  didn't  know,"  admitted  Glory  softly,  "that  I  was 
to  meet  you  here.  I  didn't  know  that  the  fight  was 
to  be  between  us." 

"You  have  ruined  me,"  he  answered.  "I'm  a  sink- 
ing ship  now,  and  those  rats  out  there  will  leave  me 
— but  it's  worth  ruin  to  see  you  again.  I  want  you  to 
take  this  message  with  you  and  remember  it.  All  my 
life  I've  gambled  hard  and  fought  hard.  Now  I 
fail  hard.  I  lost  you  and  deserved  to  lose  you,  but 
I've  always  loved  you  and  always  shall." 

Her  eyes  grew  stern,  repressing  the  tenderness  and 
pity  that  sought  to  hold  them  soft. 

"You  abandoned  me,"  she  said.  "You  sought  to 
plunder  my  people.  I  took  up  their  fight,  and  I  shall 
win  it." 

Spurrier  came  a  step  toward  her  and  spread  his 
hands  in  a  gesture  of  surrender,  but  he  had  recovered - 
from  the  shock  that  had  so  unnerved  him  a  few  min- 
utes ago  and  there  was  now  a  certain  dignity  in  his 
acceptance  of  defeat. 

"I  break  my  sword  across  my  knee,"  he  declared, 
"and  since  I  must  do  it,  I'm  glad  you  are  the  victor. 
I  won't  ask  for  mercy  even  from  you — but  when  you 
say  I  abandoned  you,  you  are  grievously  wrong. 

"When  you  say  I  sought  to  plunder  your  people,  you 
speak  the  truth  about  me — as  I  was  before  I  came  to 
love  you.  From  that  time  on  I  sought  to  serve  your 
people." 

"Sought  to  serve  them?"  she  repeated  in  perplex- 
ity. "The  record  shows  nothing  of  that." 

"And  since  the  record  doesn't,"  he  answered  stead- 
ily, "any  assertions  and  protestations  would  be  with- 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    305 

out  proof.  I've  told  you,  because  my  heart  compelled 
me.  I  won't  try  to  convince  you.  At  all  events,  since 
I  failed,  my  motives  don't  matter." 

"Your  motives  are  everything.  I  took  up  the  fight," 
she  said,  "because  I  thought  a  Spurrier  had  wronged 
them.  I  wanted  a  Spurrier  to  make  restitution." 

"At  first  I  saw  only  the  game,  dear  heart,"  he  con- 
fessed, "never  the  unfairness.  I'm  ready  to  pay  the 
price.  Ruin  me — but  in  God's  name,  believe  that  I 
love  you." 

Her  hand  came  out  waveringly  at  that,  and  for  a 
moment  rested  on  his  shoulder  with  a  little  gesture  of 
tenderness. 

"I  thought  I  hated  you,"  she  said.  "I  tried  to  hate 
you.  I've  dedicated  myself  to  my  people  and  their 
rights — but  if  you  trust  me  enough,  call  them  in  and 
let  me  talk  with  them." 

"Trust  you  enough!"  he  exclaimed  passionately, 
then  he  caught  her  to  him,  and,  when  he  let  her  go,  he 
stood  again  transformed  and  revivified  into  the  man 
he  had  seemed  before  she  appeared  in  the  doorway. 
It  was  as  though  the  touch  of  her  lips  had  given  him 
the  fire  from  which  he  rose  phcenixlike. 

With  an  unhesitant  step  he  went  to  the  door  and 
opened  it,  and  the  men  who  had  gone  out  trooped 
back  and  ranged  themselves  again  about  the  table. 

"Mr.  Spurrier  did  all  in  your  interests  that  a  man 
ebuld  do,"  said  Glory.  "He  failed  to  secure  your 
charter  and  he  failed  to  secure  the  one  tract  that  serves 
as  the  key.  I  am  a  mountain  woman  seeking  only  to 
protect  my  people.  I  hold  that  tract  as  trustee  for  Bud 
Hawkins.  I  mean  to  do  business,  but  only  at  a  fair 


306    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

price.  It's  for  you  to  determine  whether  I  deal  with 
you  or  your  competitors." 

A  look  of  consternation  spread  over  the  faces  of 
the  lesser  men,  but  Harrison  inquired  with  a  grim 
smile : 

"Madam,  haven't  I  seen  you  somewhere  before  to- 
day?" 

"Once  before — down  in  the  hills." 

"Then  you  are  this  man's  wife !  Was  this  dramatic 
incident  prearranged  between  you?" 

She  raised  an  imperative  hand,  and  her  voice  ad- 
mitted no  question  of  sincerity. 

"Make  no  such  mistake.  Mr.  Spurrier  knew  noth- 
ing of  this.  He  was  loyal  enough — to  you.  From 
him  I  never  even  learned  the  nature  of  his  business. 
Without  his  knowledge  /  was  loyal  to  my  people." 

Then  for  ten  minutes  she  talked  clearly,  forcefully, 
and  with  the  ring  of  indubitable  sincerity  giving  fire 
to  voice  and  manner.  She  told  of  the  fight  she  and 
her  father  had  made  to  keep  heart  in  mountain  folk, 
enraged  by  what  they  believed  to  be  the  betrayal  by  a 
man  they  had  trusted  and  attacked  by  every  means 
of  coercion  at  the  disposal  of  American  Oil  and  Gas. 

She  told  of  small  local  reservoirs,  mysteriously 
burned  by  unknown  incendiaries;  of  neighborhood 
pipe  lines  cut  until  they  spilled  out  their  wealth  again 
into  the  earth;  of  how  she  herself  had  walked  these 
lines  at  night,  watching  against  sabotage. 

As  she  talked  with  simple  directness  and  without 
self -vaunting,  they  saw  her  growing  in  the  trust  of 
these  men  whose  wrrath  had  been,  in  the  words  of  old 
Cappeze,  "Like  that  of  the  wolf -bitch  robbed  a  second 


THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN    307 

time  of  her  whelps."  They  recognized  the  faith  that 
had  commissioned  her  to  speak  as  trustee,  and  to  act 
with  carte-blanche  powers. 

Harrison  and  his  subordinates  were  not  susceptible 
men,  easily  swayed  by  a  dramatic  circumstance,  so 
they  cross-examined  and  heckled  her  with  shrewd  and 
tripping  inquiries,  until  she  reminded  them  that  she 
had  not  come  as  a  supplicant,  but  to  lay  before  them 
terms,  which  they  would,  at  their  peril,  decline  to  ac- 
cept. 

The  realization  was  strong  in  them  that  she  had 
spoken  only  the  truth  when  she  declared  that  she  held 
the  key.  When  they  were  convinced  that  she  realized, 
in  full,  the  strength  of  her  position,  they  had  no  wish 
to  antagonize  longer. 

The  group  of  financiers  drew  apart,  but  after  a  brief 
consultation  Harrison  came  forward  and  offered  his 
hand. 

"Mrs.  Spurrier,"  he  announced  crisply,  "we  have 
gone  too  far  to  draw  back.  After  all,  I  think  you 
come  rather  as  a  rescue  party  than  an  attacker.  Spur- 
rier, you  have  married  a  damned  brilliant  woman." 

Glory  accepted  the  extended  hand  of  peace,  and 
Harrison,  with  a  jerk  of  his  head  to  the  door,  led 
his  followers  out,  leaving  them  alone  again. 

Then  Glory  held  out  her  arms,  and  into  the  bright 
depths  of  her  eyes  flashed  the  old  bewitching  merri- 
ment. 

"Thar's  a  lavish  of  things  I  needs  ter  know,  Jack," 
she  said.  "You've  got  to  Tarn  'em  all  ter  me." 

"I  come  now,  not  as  teacher  but  as  pupil,  dear 
feeart,"  he  declared,  "and  I  come  humbly." 


308    THE  LAW  OF  HEMLOCK  MOUNTAIN 

Then  her  face  grew  serious  and  her  voice  vibrant 
with  tenderness. 

"I  have  another  gift  for  you,  Jack,  besides  myself. 
I  can  give  you  back  an  untarnished  name." 


THE   END 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  UBHAnYFJOUTY 


A     000045710     1 


